


i will let you down (i will make you hurt)

by BloodInTheFields



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Feelings, Fluff, Lots of it, Porn, also like, canon-divergent, enemies to uuhhhh, lots of feelings, lots of porn, now i can say it, somewhat dubcon, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodInTheFields/pseuds/BloodInTheFields
Summary: She feels the blade against her throat before she’s even done with her sentence. Tissaia remains calm, despite the cold metal piercing the skin ever so lightly. Something warm runs down her pale skin and she knows it’s blood. Still, her eyes never leave Yennefer’s.“Why,” Yennefer begins, almost shouting, as she stalks forward until she’s all up in Tissaia’s face. “Why did you let them send me to Nilfgaard?”_Canon-divergent.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 222
Kudos: 630





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had a shitty day. Wondered what could cheer me up. Your comments always do. So here's a new story with a lengthy first chapter. The updates won't be regular since I didn't write much ahead and I have plenty of work to do.

They come face to face in a clearing, during Tissaia’s travel up north to Talgar. Tissaia is accompanied by two men that she hired as protection on her journey. It would be easier to protect herself with magic should the need arise, but she’s been advised not to. Magic users are seen as dangerous ever since the battle of Sodden Hill. The continent has come to fear them, and the Nilfgaard emperor too. Tales of that fateful night have spread everywhere over the past few months, so mages have been instructed to lay low. Tissaia rides with two men that she’s paid handsomely when there’s a rustling of leaves on her left and all of a sudden, her companions fall off their horses, dead. The beasts run off, panicked, and Tissaia has to hold her reins tightly so as to not be thrown to the ground when her mare rears up. Her eyes scan the forest around her but it’s oddly silent now, and she knows that means someone is watching her. She can even guess who it is because she’s developed some sort of sixth sense when it comes to that particular individual.

“Show yourself, Yennefer.”

In a screen of black and purple smoke, Yennefer materializes in front of her horse, and Tissaia once again has to calm down the beast so it doesn’t run away, scared, and leave her concussed and with a broken tailbone.

“Long time, no see, Tissaia.”

Her long dress flows around her slender frame and Tissaia’s breath catches in her throat. She looks her up and down and her heart aches at the sight of her former student. Yennefer is beautiful but there is something sinister about her aura. Wherever she goes, death follows.

“You didn’t have to kill those men,” Tissaia points out, wondering why this encounter is even happening at all. After Sodden, she didn’t think she’d ever see the famous mage of Nilfgaard again. Too much bad blood and nothing left to rebuild.

“Since when do you travel with bodyguards,” Yennefer taunts her, walking around the clearing, taking in her surroundings, before her eyes find Tissaia again. “Is your magic not back yet?” She smirks. Tissaia wants to wrap her hands around her throat and squeeze until it disappears.

“It is,” she replies flatly. She remembers all too well the pain caused by the dimeritium. She’d managed to save Sodden Hill and hold off the invading forces of Emperor Emhyr Var Emreis until Yennefer had caught up with her and thrown black powder in her face, effectively stopping the chaos she’d unleashed on enemy soldiers. By that time, over half their regiment had been decimated and they’d been retreating into the forest. Yennefer finding her had been a surprise. Attacking her, a shock and a blow to the heart. But she’d held a dagger against Tissaia’s ribs and Tissaia had let her, and they’d stood like that for long minutes until Yennefer had disappeared into thin air. Unable to finish her off, despite Tissaia’s weakened state. “Have you come to finish what you couldn’t do the last time,” she asks, genuinely wondering. Why else would Yennefer be seeking her out?

Yennefer laughs. “Get off your horse and find out,” she says, hoping Tissaia will take the bait. The great Rectoress of Aretuza is prideful; that is something Yennefer has both envied and despised over the decades. The poise with which she holds herself, her detached and unaffected demeanor… yes, Yennefer hates it. Hates her. And of course, predictably, Tissaia does dismount her beast. She keeps her blue eyes trained on Yennefer, waiting for whatever she has planned.

“Well, then? I don’t have all day.” She feels the blade against her throat before she’s even done with her sentence. Tissaia remains calm, despite the cold metal piercing the skin ever so lightly. Something warm runs down her pale skin and she knows it’s blood. Still, her eyes never leave Yennefer’s.

“Why,” Yennefer begins, almost shouting, as she stalks forward until she’s all up in Tissaia’s face. “Why did you let them send me to Nilfgaard?”

This again? Tissaia has to hide her surprise. They’d gone over it right after the decision had been made by the council and Yennefer had been told. It’s been decades. Is the girl still holding a grudge? “You already know the answer to that,” she says in a carefully-controlled tone.

“You should have fought for me,” Yennefer yells, fury in her eyes. She’s so close now that Tissaia could touch her if she extended her arm. She doesn’t. There’s still a blade pressed to her throat and Yennefer is clearly unstable so moving an inch isn’t an option. Tissaia can see the signs of dark magic in the air; it crackles with it, all around Yennefer. The deranged look in her eyes is yet another proof that the girl has lost herself to chaos and darkness. Tissaia feels sorry for her and anger at herself for failing Yennefer.

“I tried,” she replies. “They didn’t listen. Now, if you don’t mind, I have important business to attend to.” This proves to be the wrong thing to say. Yennefer’s never liked being dismissed as if she’s nothing and Tissaia remembers that very well. Still, the words fall from her mouth, dripping with contempt, despite the imminent threat of death. There is no way she’ll let Yennefer have the upper hand.

Tissaia’s dismissal makes her blood boil. Yennefer grits her teeth and is so very tempted to let the magic blade cut into her delicate throat, to watch the blood trickle down her pale skin. She does none of that. Tissaia isn’t scared of her, never has been. The hatred that she feels for her threatens to consume her, and Yennefer knows today is not the day she’ll get her revenge on Tissaia de Vries. With a wave of her hand, she vanishes into a black cloud of smoke.

__

The next time they meet is about a month later. There’s been unrest in Tridam and Tissaia’s close enough on a trip to Blaviken that she decides to see for herself what trouble is brewing there. When she arrives, perched on her mare, she notices the village is eerily quiet. It’s as if everyone is asleep, or worse. The hairs stand up on the back of her neck and she looks around, trying to identify the source of danger her magic has picked up. Her beast must sense it too, because it stops a few meters further. She dismounts, pats it on the shoulder to calm it, and turns away. Her feet guide her to the tavern and Tissaia pushes the door open.

There is only one woman awake, sitting at a table, her back on the door. Tissaia recognizes the long, black hair before she smells lilac and gooseberries. Immediately on her guard, she takes measured steps towards the table until she’s standing three feet behind Yennefer, who has yet to look at her.

“What did you do, Yennefer?”

“Nothing permanent, rest assured.”

“What are you doing so far from Nilfgaard?”

Yennefer sighs. She’s been expecting Tissaia for a while and now that she’s here, she just feels annoyed. Still, she deigns to look at her, tongue clicking as she takes in the appearance of her former mentor. Tissaia looks proper and pristine, as usual, and it unnerves Yennefer more than she’s willing to admit to herself.

“Waiting for you,” she says, rising from her seat. She towers over Tissaia and it’s something that always gives her some petty smugness. Tissaia remains impassive and surely by now she knows Yennefer uses her height to try and intimidate her.

“And why is that,” Tissaia asks her. Of all the things that she thought she’d find here, Yennefer of Vengerberg sitting alone in a gloomy tavern surrounded by unconscious drunkards was not one of them.

“I want to talk. I figured, if I am to fight you again on the battlefield, you might not be so lucky. I thought perhaps we could clear the air before that happens.”

Tissaia gauges her in silence, a raised eyebrow the only sign of her skepticism. Yennefer walks past her toward the shelves where bottles of wine are stacked. She feels Tissaia’s gaze following her through the room, and she can’t blame her. Tissaia probably thinks she’s going to kill her and to be fair, Yennefer hasn’t made up her mind yet. When she finds a bottle that appeals to her tastes, she uncorks it with a flick of the hand and brings it back to the table where she sits in the same spot, in the chair she left vacant. She fills up two glasses and pushes one to the opposite side. Her foot finds the chair facing hers and she pushes it back enough for Tissaia to take the hint and sit down.

“Well? What is it you think we must absolutely discuss,” Tissaia asks, throwing her gloves on the table. She doesn’t want to entertain this at all, but her curiosity gets the best of her. Yennefer sips at her wine, apparently in no rush. Tissaia can outwait her, she knows that. They both know that.

“You said it was my Elven blood that caused my being sent to Nilfgaard.”

“Yes. It was.”

“You said you couldn’t stop that from happening, that it was beyond your control.”

“Yes,” Tissaia repeats. Where is this going, again? She’s so tired of the same old argument. Over the years, it had become Yennefer’s obsession. The grudge that she held was unhealthy, and given the lengths she was willing to go to for revenge, she was not about to let it go.

“Why didn’t you have me sent somewhere else? Why Nilfgaard? Do you know what they do to their mages there?”

Tissaia sighs, blinks twice and looks out of the window on her left. Yennefer is still under the impression that there was more she could have done to prevent her from going to Nilfgaard. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s tried to explain herself. Yennefer never seems to remember.

“The other courts already had mages. Once your Elven heritage came to light, there were options off the table for you, I’m afraid,” she tells her. Over the years, some of those kingdoms have been decimated by Nilfgaard, and while Tissaia doesn’t want to make assumptions, she imagines that perhaps personal revenge was the motive for Yennefer going on a rampage. Which is why the girl keeps seeking her out, keeps provoking her. Yennefer laughs, but it’s not genuine or light. It’s bitter and angry, and Tissaia hates to hear it.

Yennefer tries to quell her growing agitation to no avail. Something about Tissaia always sets her off. Even during her formative years, she found the Rectoress incredibly frustrating. She downs her wine at once, unable to stand Tissaia’s presence any longer. Something deep within her wants to hurt Tissaia and she did not come here for that.

“Why the dimeritium,” Tissaia’s voice cuts through the air. “You know the suffering it can cause. Do you really hate me this much that you’d wish that pain upon me?”

Yennefer’s eyes find Tissaia’s. “You cannot begin to imagine the depth of my hatred for you. You were supposed to protect me. I _trusted_ you to protect me!”

Her nature has always been chaotic and it comes as no surprise when the table is sent flying to the side and crashes into the bar, wine spilling everywhere. Tissaia doesn’t even flinch and keeps her eyes on Yennefer. “Perhaps you hate me, piglet, but despite the devastation you’ve helped Nilfgaard bring to this continent, I do not feel hatred for you. I care about you, as I always have.”

“Bullshit!”

Yennefer is on her feet now, towering over an unflappable Tissaia. Her fingertips glow orange and it would be oh so easy to wrap them around Tissaia’s throat and squeeze the life out of her. Would she fight back? Yennefer isn’t even sure. Perhaps she wouldn’t, just to spite her and deprive her of the pleasure of overpowering her. Tissaia rises slowly, still shorter than Yennefer even in boots. She’s lived centuries being underestimated because of her height; it really doesn’t faze her anymore. If Yennefer thinks she’s intimidating her, she needs to think again.

“I am not interested in fighting you, Yennefer. As you know, I’m a busy woman. So if there’s nothing else…” She trails off and fully expects the other woman to start hurling insults at her, but no. Yennefer, so close to her, stares into her eyes with barely contained anger and Tissaia feels the magic cracking in the air around them. “You chose your own path, Yennefer. I regret not being able to protect you from Nilfgaard, but every choice you’ve made since then has been your own and I will not apologize for that.”

“Fuck you,” Yennefer growls. A hand comes up to Tissaia’s throat and she expects to be sent flying back and crashing into a wall, but nothing happens. Tissaia doesn’t push her away, and Yennefer is so confused by her inertia. “Fuck you for thinking every choice was my own,” she continues on the same tone as her fingers tighten and Tissaia’s jaw clenches. Still, no attempt is made to stop her. “Why won’t you fight back,” she barks. “I know you can!” The question is rhetorical: Tissaia can’t answer with the way her throat is being constricted. Yennefer stares and stares, conflict written all over her face, and then there’s no pressure anymore and the younger mage steps back, arm falling back at her side. Tissaia takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. What she knew would happen, happened. Yennefer is incapable of going through with her threats, no matter how hard she tries. Tissaia takes a step closer and raises a hand to cup Yennefer’s cheek. Before she can touch her pale skin, Yennefer jerks away, out of reach.

“Fuck you,” she says again, this time dejectedly, the angry fire extinguished. Outside, a horse neighs, distracting Tissaia. Her eyes fleetingly go to the window and when she looks back at Yennefer, all she sees is a cloud of black smoke. This cannot go on. The next time they meet, Tissaia decides, will be on her terms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too used to regular updates, but here's a second chapter.
> 
> I want to dedicate this one to those of you who are too afraid to come talk on Tumblr, you know who you are ;)

She finds Yennefer in Rinde, almost five weeks later. Trouble in the continent has halted as Nilfgaard is facing more rallying armies and the emperor has to consider a truce. The Brotherhood is still reluctant to intervene in political matters, as if they haven’t been forcefully thrown into the middle of the war. Tissaia needs to leave Aretuza before she incinerates the lot of them. Triss has gone back to Foltest and Tissaia thinks perhaps she ought to visit her and see how she’s doing and how nicely her throat has healed since the last time they saw one another. She doesn’t make it to Temeria. Tissaia doesn’t even realize that she’s led her horse further north, to the province of Redania. She’s heard through the grapevine that Yennefer is in Rinde and before she knows it, Tissaia is entering the town. Villagers are all too eager to share stories about the mage that has taken up residence in the mayor’s house. They speak of her ethereal beauty with reverence but Tissaia senses fear behind their empty compliments. Yennefer has them scared and obedient.

In a sparsely furnished room that she’s rented for the night, Tissaia waits for the sun to go down. Using the cover of the night to meet with Yennefer might be more sensible and will attract less attention than demanding an audience in the middle of the day. She’s not supposed to use magic, but then again neither is Yennefer and it has clearly not stopped the other woman who seems to be enjoying a vacation away from the court of emperor Emhyr var Emreis. Despite knowing the risk she’s taking, outing herself as a magic user if anyone were to check her room and find her gone without having walked out of it, Tissaia opens a portal and focuses her mind on Yennefer, knowing her magic will undoubtedly bring her to the other woman.

__

It’s not as entertaining as she thought it would be, Yennefer thinks as she watches the townspeople enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. Enslaved by a spell, they entwine languidly, naked, unaware of their actions. Free will is overrated. She finds herself bored after an hour. Sure, there are handsome men and beautiful women, and they would be appealing on any other night, but Yennefer sighs. She’s been here three days and it already feels stifling. She has half a mind to clap her hands twice and call it a day when she feels the air around her shifting. Excitement creeps up her spine. She knows this feeling.

“Tissaia,” she says out loud, acknowledging the intruding presence somewhere behind her. What must she think at the sight of the orgy Yennefer’s organized to entertain herself? The woman appears at her side, in a black gown that clings to her body and Yennefer actually turns her head to appraise her. Tissaia looks straight ahead at the crowd before them, the perfect picture of a frozen statue as always. When her eyes meet Yennefer’s, she looks absolutely unimpressed.

“Is that why you’re away from Nilfgaard? To cast spells on unsuspecting villagers?”

“They won’t remember a thing. But they will feel surprisingly good in the morning.”

Yennefer rises from her seat, and finally Tissaia’s gaze drops to take in her outfit. She’s outdone herself tonight, and she knows the allure of a domino mask combined with red lipstick. Tissaia’s throat bobs up and down and that’s a new development, Yennefer notes. She’s never paid much attention to the affect her appearance has on the great Rectoress—only ever noticing passing looks that could be interpreted in many different ways—but it might be something to explore, if only to shake her off her high horse.

“Can we talk,” Tissaia asks, rerouting her attention to the heaps of naked flesh in front of them. “In private,” she clarifies. A low hum is the only answer she receives, and suddenly the townspeople’s trance is broken and everyone scatters, in confusion and shock, trying to cover themselves. Yennefer doesn’t wait for them to vacate the place. She turns and walks away, leaving Tissaia to follow without a word. A long corridor and two empty rooms later, they enter a bedroom, with ornated walls and a high ceiling. Tissaia takes it all in rapidly, as Yennefer heads straight for the vanity on which she carelessly throws the earrings she just took off.

“Talk.” It’s an order, and Tissaia resists the urge to tell her off because she did come here to discuss their situation and starting it with an argument won’t do.

Yennefer keeps her mask on. Much like the lipstick, it feels like an armor against Tissaia’s earnest gaze. She doesn’t understand why her former mentor is still trying to reason with her. They’re on opposite sides, have been for a while now. It would be better to never see each other again until they have to fight to the death. Nilfgaard owns her, and it’s Tissaia’s fault for allowing her to be sent there as a young woman still trying to find her own way. Nilfgaard broke her, she knows. She’s powerless to fight against it, and why would she anyway? The kingdom is the future; the emperor holds the most power and with Yennefer at his side they will conquer the continent. This is her legacy. Tissaia cannot ruin that.

“Come back with me. Aretuza could be your sanctuary.”

Yennefer’s laugh echoes against the walls, in the room. There’s no humor in it. She shakes her head. “Why would I _ever_ do that?” Has the old sorceress finally lost it? She hates Aretuza even more than she hates Tissaia. She’d love to burn it to the ground. Tissaia tentatively steps closer.

“I can see you’re hurting, Yennefer. I never wanted that for you.”

“And what did you want for me, Rectoress,” Yennefer asks mockingly. She lets Tissaia approach her and notices how careful the woman is to not move too fast. As if Yennefer will disappear if she does. It annoys her. Eyes trailing on Tissaia’s body, a disdainful pout distorting her full lips, Yennefer remembers her observation from earlier. “Or should I say,” she starts again, “what do you want from me?”

Tissaia halts, disconcerted by the change in tone. Her back stiffens when Yennefer smirks, reveling pearly white teeth that contrast so harshly with her lipstick and outfit. The younger mage comes closer—too close for Tissaia’s taste—and tilts her head, looking down at her.

“Even now, you can’t admit it. What you really want.”

“I want what’s best for you,” she replies firmly. It’s the truth, even if Yennefer doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t believe it. Tissaia can feel the heat that radiates from her body in such proximity and she curses her weakness for beautiful women because it’s harder than it should be to not look down at the very appealing outfit Yennefer is wearing. Her mind is too wrapped in the hurt she sees in Yennefer’s eyes now, behind all the bravado which Tissaia knows is just a show. Yennefer is broken, and she’s partly responsible for that.

Yennefer doesn’t like the way Tissaia is carefully studying her face, hoping to see cracks beneath the mask. She needs no one. Tissaia said it herself, she’s made her own choices, no? Fuck her for trying to look for a weakness now. “I think what’s best for me at the moment, considering the plans I had for tonight before you showed up uninvited, is to relieve some urges,” she says flippantly. Tissaia catches the drift, of course, and her lips set into a thin line which makes Yennefer smirk triumphantly. Having the upper hand is such a trip, she’s quickly drunk on it and pushes forward, pressing her body against Tissaia’s. “Will you be useful, Rectoress, for once?”

She half-expects a slap, but Tissaia simply pushes her back, a hand flat against her sternum. “You couldn’t handle me,” Tissaia says casually, as if Yennefer didn’t just come on to her. “Now, I’m making you an offer and I hope you’ll consider it properly. Leave Nilfgaard. They’re waging a war that isn’t yours. Your place is with us, on Thanedd.”

“I can’t leave. And even if I could, I would never go back to Aretuza.” The name alone leaves a sour taste in her mouth. She’d rather distract herself for now, pushing Tissaia’s buttons. “But you’re right,” she continues. “We don’t need to be enemies.”

With a strength that surprises Tissaia, Yennefer grabs her wrists and spins her around, trapping her between the vanity and Yennefer’s body. Tissaia lets out a small gasp in shock as the small of her back hits wood and knocks over items on the piece of furniture. “We’d have so much more fun _together_ ,” Yennefer continues, the innuendo clear. It is then that Tissaia realizes something she’s missed up until now: this is not her Yennefer. It’s not her former student. She looks like her and talks like her and yes, it _is_ her but at the same time it’s not. The darkness emanating from Yennefer isn’t natural. It doesn’t come from her. It doesn’t—

“Oh,” Tissaia exclaims when sharp teeth bite into her neck. Too caught up in her thoughts, trying to understand what’s going on, Tissaia didn’t notice the feral look in violet eyes and now Yennefer’s pounced on her and there are hands creeping onto her ass while a tongue runs over what she’s sure are angry bite marks.

“You’re weak,” Yennefer mocks in her ear. “Look at you, all high and mighty, yet you still let yourself be touched by an enemy because of your weakness.”

Something snaps within Tissaia, and with both hands pushing forwards, a blast of magic sends Yennefer flying backwards until her back crashes against the far wall of the room and she collapses to the floor, out cold. Shakily, Tissaia turns around to look at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingertips trace the reddish outline of Yennefer’s teeth on her neck. The flesh is still wet from her tongue and she closes her eyes at the feeling. She should have reacted sooner—immediately. Yennefer was right; she’d had a moment of weakness. She wipes at the bitemark that will probably leave a trace for a couple of days, and takes in the image of Yennefer’s unconscious body behind her. She sighs, makes up her mind on the spot. If she leaves the girl here, she’ll no doubt lose her forever. Perhaps if she attempts something now, she can save her. Bring her back to her senses. Yes, this is what she must do.

With haste, Tissaia walks towards Yennefer and kneels beside her. Her former student doesn’t look so menacing now, and Tissaia takes a moment to study her delicate features. She brushes a strand of black hair from her face. Where to go now? She wills herself to think fast, before Yennefer wakes up and tries to kill her again. When her mind settles on a destination, Tissaia slides an arm under Yennefer’s shoulders and tries to bring her to her feet. She’s thankful for the wall behind them, which supports her efforts just enough that she manages to get Yennefer on her feet. She sighs. So much for not using magic. A slight wave of the hand and a portal opens in front of them. Tissaia, struggling to hold Yennefer upright, manages to get them both through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh. Should I make this extra angsty or is this level fine?

When Yennefer comes to, she winces in pain. The back of her head is killing her, and she’s cold. “What the fuck…” She rubs at her eyes and realizes her domino mask is gone. There’s black powder on her hand from her make-up and yet when she touches her lips, she finds no remnant of lipstick. Unsteadily, she rises to her feet and only then notices the bed she was lying on. Where is she? The last thing she remembers is…

“Tissaia? Tissaia!” The memories are flooding back and her headache is forgotten as fury takes a hold of her. She sees it clearly now. She’s in a cell. Locked up, of course. A prisoner. Tissaia knocked her out and put her in a cell like a dog. “Tissaia,” she yells once more. Surely if she causes a ruckus, the other woman—or anyone else—will show up. She tries a spell to unlock the door and gets no result. The small window, which is more like an arrow slit to be fair, is too high, too small, and offers no way out either. She’s well and truly trapped in a room that has been enchanted by someone more powerful than her. Tissaia, of course, Yennefer deduces. With no solution, Yennefer is forced to wait until she shows up.

__

She’s almost asleep when someone bangs on the door, jolting her awake. Yennefer is upright on her feet in a flash, racing to the door, only to be met with Tissaia’s cool gaze through the small opening. “You,” she spits, anger once again flaring through her body. “Let me out. I might just spare you if you let me out right this instant.” Tissaia raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?” When Yennefer doesn’t reply—taken aback by the casual dismissal of her demand—Tissaia continues. “Good. This room, as I’m sure you’ve figured, is locked by powerful spells that no one but me can undo. Which means that if you try to kill me, you will still be locked in here. Forever. Am I being clear?”

Without waiting for a reply, Tissaia unlocks the door and steps into the small room. In her hands, she carries a tray that Yennefer hadn’t noticed. On it, a bowl of what appears to be stew, and a wooden cup filled with water. Tissaia doesn’t even bother to close the door behind her and despite the warning, Yennefer tries her luck. She tentatively puts a hand forward only to receive a shock that seems to be electric. She reels back, cradling her hand. “How did you manage to cast spells that aren’t tied to your life? Did you tether the magic to something else,” she asks, genuinely curious. That is something she has never managed to do.

“You’ll tire yourself out and still not be able to get out,” Tissaia reminds her as she settles the tray on the small table and turns to face Yennefer. “You might have learned a lot during your time in Nilfgaard, but you’re centuries behind me, Yennefer. You’d do well to remember that.”

There’s no venom in her words; it’s objectively the truth, and perhaps it is what triggers Yennefer’s anger once more. In two long strides, she’s in front of Tissaia, teeth bared as she attacks again: “You think you’re so powerful, but I will knock you down and I will make you pay for this!” Something at the back of her mind calls to her behind the shroud of negative emotions but she can’t grasp it, too lost to the darkness filling her being. “Do you hear me, Tissaia? You will _suffer_.”

The hint of sadness in the other woman’s eyes is like fuel to her fire. She craves it, wants to see it on display. But just as quickly as it appears, the emotion is gone and Tissaia raises her chin defiantly. “Perhaps. I doubt it. The cup of water is enchanted and will refill any time you take a sip. Eat your porridge before it gets cold. I’ll check back in the morning.”

Momentarily distracted by the way her stomach rumbles, Yennefer lets her go and by the time she reaches for her, Tissaia is already out and locking the door behind herself. Gripping at the bars of the small opening at eye-level, Yennefer can only watch Tissaia’s retreating form, ignoring her as she yells expletives and death threats.

__

The days go by, slowly, and Yennefer is going out of her mind. How long has she been here? Tissaia doesn’t even seem to come down every day now. Perhaps she has tired of Yennefer’s incessant threats. Yennefer channels her rage into doing physical exercise in the small cell. Without her magic—the cuff on her hand, she’d noticed on her first day here, has to contain dimeritium—she cannot keep her figure as she usually does. She’s never spent much time exercising at all, but with all the time on her hands and very little to entertain herself, Yennefer learns. As her muscles develop and her arms grow stronger, she dreams of the day she’ll be able to use her new strength to squeeze the life out of Tissaia de Vries.

__

The girl is mad. Tissaia figures it out after some weeks, confirms the suspicion she’s had ever since Rinde. Something in Yennefer is wrong and it’s not _natural_. She goes more feral as time goes by, reminding Tissaia of someone in withdrawal. She’s seen it in many people over the centuries, trying to severe their need for potions or herbs or drugs. It’s taken her this long to recognize it because the withdrawal manifests itself differently in Yennefer. It’s slowly but surely making her lose her mind. It takes her weeks but Tissaia finally summons Triss Merigold to Aretuza, and confesses about Yennefer’s presence in the disused dungeons of the prestigious academy. “Since when,” Triss asks. Tissaia lies. “A couple of weeks.” It’s been almost a month. When she shares her concern about Yennefer’s state of mind, Triss nods thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can find out in books.” Perhaps she ought to have called for help sooner, because Triss looks worried. Tissaia berates herself. Between her responsibilities as the Rectoress, the council meetings about the precarious state of the continent, she hasn’t had much time to leave at all and look for possible cures herself. Time could be against them, if Yennefer’s condition worsens. “Go,” she tells Triss. “Report to me with your findings in a week.” Hopefully, until then, Yennefer will resist the darkness that has its roots firmly planted in her brain.

__

It’s become a ritual. Tissaia brings food into the cell, listens to Yennefer monologue about how she’s going to hurt her, in very creative ways, sometimes humors her with a few remarks that only seem to fuel the rage the younger mage feels, and then Tissaia leaves her to her own devices until the following day. Yennefer starts to change her threats after a while, going from “I’ll kill you slowly” to “I will kill everyone you’ve ever met.” Tissaia’s heart hurts for the girl. On a particularly bad day, Tissaia lets her frustration shine through and delivers a blow to Yennefer’s ego. “Do you know, piglet, that no one from Nilfgaard has tried to claim you? You've been here for months and the king hasn't enquired about you once. Shows how important you are to him, really." It’s a lie. The only reason no one so far has come to look for her is because Tissaia’s made sure rumors about Yennefer’s presence all over the continent continue to spread. She imagines Emreis doesn’t have immediate need for his most precious mage otherwise he’d have sent for her. But Yennefer doesn’t need to know that. Predictably, the words have Yennefer out of her mind, hands grabbing at the barred opening of the door. "Fuck the cockless bastard, I'll kill him too when I get out of here, right after I skin you alive for daring to lock me up!"

Tissaia is looking at her with something akin to sadness in her eyes, but her voice says something else. "Oh, like you did in the several opportunities you had before? And yet here I am, and there. you. are." Yennefer lets out a manic chuckle, because her enemy is right. She’d had her opportunities and had blown them all. Something inside of her had simply refused, each time, to go through with her desire to end Tissaia’s life. “I won’t hesitate the next time,” she promises. Tissaia sighs tiredly, shakes her head, and disappears out of her sight. Yennefer listens as her heels click on the cobblestone, listens until she can’t hear them anymore, and then she lets her forehead rest against the cool bars that do little to calm her down.

__

“Emhyr’s been poisoning her,” Triss says one day as she appears out of nowhere in Tissaia’s study. Immediately, Tissaia drops her quill and gets up, walking around her desk to plant herself firmly in front of Triss. “What do you mean?”

“Her behavior that you described is the result of dark magic. She’s been poisoned, if I were to guess, ever since she set foot in Nilfgaard.”

“With what,” Tissaia asks, at a loss. The fact doesn’t surprise her much, but she has no idea what could accomplish something like that.

“I don’t know yet,” Triss says with an apologetic shrug. “I haven’t been able to find the right combination of herbs and ingredients. But I’ll keep looking. You said you cuffed her with dimeritium?” Tissaia nods. “It could be what’s causing her mind to be torn. Between the poison, the dark magic and the suppressant power of the dimeritium it doesn’t know how to cope.”

“Are you suggesting she might calm down if I take off the cuff?”

They look at each other in silence, considering the option. Yennefer with magic would be too dangerous. Tissaia knows she can’t let it happen. Yet if it is what’s causing her madness… “I know someone who could help,” Triss declares after a minute. “It’ll be a few days before I can meet with them.” She doesn’t give any indication about this particular someone, but Tissaia thinks it might just be an elf. Their secrets are well-kept, but their magic is unparalleled. They could have knowledge that Tissaia doesn’t.

“Go on, then. Don’t waste any time.” It remains unspoken, but her worry that Yennefer’s state could worsen is clear enough that Triss doesn’t need to hear it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early because @thinkbucket promised to draw me something so that's the reward I offered. You're welcome!

When she stops by the cell for her daily visit the following day, Tissaia pauses in the doorway. Yennefer is doing push-ups, in her undergarments. The clothes she’s been given are crumpled on the bed. “Come to bring more of that disgusting stew,” Yennefer grunts without stopping her exercise. Up and down, up and down. Tissaia sees the faintest glint of sweat on her muscular back and she looks away, clearing her throat. “It’s nutritious,” she states, hoping this will not be the start of another argument. Yennefer jumps to her feet, rubs her hands together to get rid of the dust and approaches the table where Tissaia set down the tray. “Looks as unappealing as ever.” She seems to be in a relatively good mood today, but Tissaia remains cautious. Yennefer’s temper is volatile.

“Can I have new clothes,” Yennefer asks, gesturing toward the bed. “Those are dirty and quite frankly I could use a bath. This soap-and-sponge-in-a-basin thing is getting rather insulting. I’d like to feel like a woman again.”

Tissaia is considering her request, and she’s almost about to accept when Yennefer speaks again. “I could also use the touch of a woman, so if you’d like to scrub me clean I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I promise I wouldn’t try to drown you, even though you deserve it and worse.” She smirks, but it’s not playful. It’s sinister, and Tissaia sees beauty distorted by darkness. Yennefer has her trapped between the table and her almost-naked body. She let herself be fooled and now unless she uses magic to shove Yennefer out of her way, she cannot get to the door. “What is it, Rectoress? Are you afraid that today might be the day I decide I don’t mind living in here forever as long as I take you with me?”

“Quite frankly, no. Step back, now, and I might allow you to bathe.”

Yennefer glares at her, desperately searching for a crack in the façade but Tissaia gives her nothing. How many times before has she been threatened by Yennefer? “Now,” she commands, ready to push past her. They’re so close that she can smell Yennefer’s sweat, and she has to concede that the girl does need a bath. The dark mage must come to the same conclusion because she turns away, still angry, and grabs the ratty clothes on the bed, throwing them out the door. The gesture annoys Tissaia but she swallows her remark, opting to make it safely outside instead of antagonizing Yennefer further. But the other woman isn’t done. She comes as close as the magic will allow her and Tissaia meets her eyes questioningly. It is then that she notices the darker shade of purple, something that should not be possible. It’s the dark magic, little by little, gnawing at her soul. They need to hurry and find a cure. “I’ll be back later,” she tells Yennefer softly. Perhaps she’ll even take off the cuff. She needs to strengthen her shields first. A Yennefer with access to her powers could potentially break those if she unleashed her chaos.

__

Yennefer hums as her body sinks into hot, scented water. Baths are wonderful; she’s always loved them. Growing up, the only water she was allowed to use was the one her poor excuse of a father used for the pigs, and Yennefer had only known her first true bathing here, in Aretuza. Tissaia had given her that back then, and it feels for a moment that nothing has changed. The Rectoress stands behind her, eyes firmly cast on the wall in front of her, and she ignores Yennefer’s naked body as best as she can. But she stays, perhaps out of fear that Yennefer will try to drown herself if she’s left alone. The thought makes her eyes roll. Her survival instincts would prevent her from drowning herself, so there’s really no need to worry about that. She closes her eyes and allows herself to relax, head resting against the edge of the wooden tub, enjoying the way water sloshes around as she moves her legs. She could probably fall asleep in here.

“I have a deal to offer you, Yennefer.” Tissaia’s voice brings her back to reality. Her eyes open and she waits for her captor to continue. “If you promise to behave, I will remove the cuff from your wrist. It will only come back if you lose your temper or try to hurt me. If you truly think you can behave, tell me now.” Her first thought is that as soon as the dimeritium is off, she’ll grab Tissaia and drown her. Her second thought is saner: she can play the long con. Behaving shouldn’t be too hard if she manages to keep the murder ideas out of her mind. “I’ll behave,” she says with conviction. Tissaia only has to believe her. When her words are met with silence, Yennefer turns around in her bath to look up at Tissaia questioningly. The other woman meets her gaze, conflict written all over her face. “I’ll behave,” Yennefer repeats, hoping to convey innocence and honesty in the hushed tone she uses.

Tissaia doesn’t move an inch, and Yennefer goes back to her bath. The woman doesn’t trust her, and she can’t blame her. After all, she would definitely try to harm her with magic if she could.

But when Yennefer wakes the next morning, the cuff on her wrist is gone.

__

Breathing is easier, Yennefer finds, the following days. She feels more like herself. The murderous thoughts have lessened and she can focus more clearly on things that do not involve Tissaia or murder or revenge. It’s strange. She’d grown accustomed to living with the rage, and now it has subsided, somewhat. She doesn’t thank Tissaia. There is still too much anger at being held captive, too much rancor at having been bested. But she makes good on her promise, and doesn’t try anything to hurt the other woman when she’s in the room. A magic more powerful than hers still prevents Yennefer from summoning anything or creating portals. She’s well and truly stuck, and quite frankly the return of her powers is a bit useless since she can’t use them. Yet she feels better and so she doesn’t complain. The downside with being able to think more clearly now is that boredom takes a hold of her. She spends a day counting the grey stones that make up the walls of her cell, tries exercising, ends up singing to herself, and all of that before Tissaia’s visit at night. After three days, Yennefer fears she’s going truly mad. It is partly because of boredom that she starts antagonizing Tissaia again, after a few days of tentative truce between them.

“I wonder, does the council know you’re keeping me here?” The question stops Tissaia in her tracks momentarily, just as she’s about to set down the tray of food that she brings daily. Yennefer sits on her bed, hands idly playing with the hem of her modest dress. “What do you think,” Tissaia shoots back. The tray slams on the table, a sign that Yennefer’s inquiry has annoyed her. “I think they don’t know shit. I think they’d want me dead if they knew I was under the same roof as them.”

Tissaia’s fingers drum on the table, her back still turned on Yennefer. No, of course she hasn’t told anyone about their unwanted guest. Quite rightfully they’d have asked for her head. Tissaia herself isn’t sure why she’s so intent on saving Yennefer’s soul. Guilt, certainly. But that is not enough to justify all the times she’s put herself in danger to try and reason with Yennefer. It doesn’t justify coming down here every day when she could simply make food appear directly into the cell. “I believe in you,” she settles for saying. Whatever that means, she’s not sure. Can Yennefer be saved? Tissaia hopes so, but with no news from Triss, and her limited time frame, it’s not looking good.

Yennefer is intrigued. The Brotherhood is kept in the dark about her presence here which means Tissaia is acting on her own. If Yennefer were to get her revenge on her, no one would suspect it was her. But the best way for this is not confrontation. Tissaia made that clear. Perhaps gaining her trust would work, although Tissaia is no fool. With no better plan at the moment, Yennefer decides to start enacting this one. “I should have left Nilfgaard,” she says. Tissaia doesn’t turn but her back straightens, muscles taut, and Yennefer knows she’s listening attentively. “When Emreis shared his plans of conquering the northern kingdoms. Even before then. But I couldn’t. I had nowhere to go. I hated you. Hated Aretuza. I had no one, and nothing.” Words chosen carefully have the intended effect. Tissaia finally meets her gaze and steps closer. “You had me, Yennefer. You stopped trusting me after I couldn’t convince the council to send you to Aedirn, but my help was never off the table.”

Outside, thunder booms and the room is illuminated whenever lightning bolts tear through dark clouds. The storm is unlikely to die down before the dawn. It reminds Tissaia of the turmoil in Yennefer’s mind. She wonders if perhaps the hold of dark magic has lessened because Yennefer seems less hostile. As if the chaos within her has decided to give her a reprieve. She moves forward until she’s standing in front of Yennefer who is still sat on the bed. Is this a trick, Tissaia asks herself. As if she senses her doubt, her companion rises to her feet. “I don’t trust you, that’s true. And if I ever get to leave this place I will probably try to kill you again. It’s as if I cannot think of anything else.” Spilling the truth is easy. Yennefer doesn’t care to let Tissaia know about her feelings. If it lures Tissaia in, gets her closer—close enough to let her guard down—that works in her favor. Yes, she’s found that her mind is clouded with thoughts of snuffing the life out of the Rectoress, and she’s noticed those violent ideas are chased away when she exercises. When she empties her mind and thinks of nothing but the way her muscles burn and her sweat drips from her face to the ground as she pushes herself up and down on her arms. Is it the price to pay for the things she’s done? Tissaia said something and she doesn’t know what, doesn’t dare ask her to repeat herself. Refocusing on her interlocutor, Yennefer feels a sudden burst of hatred and anger explode within her. She remembers Rinde, remembers wandering eyes and somehow it makes her furious.

“Why keep me in a cell,” she asks sharply. “If you were going to put up magic barriers, the least you could have done is set me up in a nice room with a large bed. Or did you want to keep me your dirty little secret so badly that you had to lock me up here?” Tissaia studies her face carefully and it takes all of Yennefer’s willpower to keep a bored expression on her delicate features. Since this gets no reaction from her enemy, Yennefer presses on. “Maybe you have plans for me, hmm? You want me all to yourself? I bet you’re a freak—”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence. A hand collides with her left cheek so forcefully that her head swivels to the right and she sees stars for a short moment. The slap took her by surprise, but Yennefer is quick to laugh after the initial shock. Tissaia now looks upset, almost as if she’s offended that Yennefer could suggest something like that. This is perfect for Yennefer. “Did I hit a nerve? I know that you want me. I’ve seen it in your eyes. Which makes this all the funnier, really.”

“Shut up,” Tissaia hisses. How the hell Yennefer figured out she might be a bit attracted to her is a mystery. Clearly, Tissaia hasn’t done a good enough job at hiding her fascination for Yennefer’s dark allure, but she’ll be damned if she lets herself be disrespected like that. Except, of course, Yennefer knows she struck a chord and is unlikely to let it slide. “Why? Does it hurt you to crave something you hate?” How can this girl be so clever and yet so dumb at the same time, Tissaia wonders. She has half a mind to slap her again for daring to say something so inane. Then, Yennefer raises a hand and lets her fingertips brush against Tissaia’s clothed arm. “Even a woman like you has needs,” she whispers, her eyes following the movement of her hand as if hypnotized. It takes Tissaia all of three seconds before she swats at it, and waves a finger in Yennefer’s face. “Listen to me. If you don’t stop your idiocy right this instant, I will put that cuff back on your wrist.” She doesn’t give her a chance to reply and hurries out of the room, escaping the stifling atmosphere. The door locks behind her and she can’t be sure, but Tissaia thinks she hears Yennefer chuckle to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome.

She’s distracted. The girls notice and whisper, giggling, thinking perhaps Tissaia can’t hear them gossiping about her love life. They know nothing of the world yet, barely fifteen years of age. They guess her attention is elsewhere, with a man she’s in love with. They couldn’t be further from the truth. The lesson ends with no one being able to lift their stone—half of them don’t have the gift of magic and will be taught to make healing potions. Tissaia dismisses them and is out of the room in a blink. Triss is waiting for her in her study and let her know of her presence through their telepathic link. Her hair is tied in a bun and Tissaia doesn’t remember ever seeing her wear it like that.

“Tissaia,” Triss greets her when she enters her office. She stands up from the chair she’d been sitting on and Tissaia motions for her to not bother. “How is she?” From behind her desk, Tissaia sighs and wipes at her brow. “Insufferable. Manageable still.” Triss nods, thoughtful. Then, she grabs a leather bag at her feet and settles it down on the desk. “I was given a book,” she says, “about ancient magic that might tell us what she’s been poisoned with.” She takes out a grimoire and hands it to Tissaia. The book is heavy and definitely older than Tissaia herself, but it’s been well-preserved. “There must be a thousand pages in this,” she comments, taking in the thin pages. It will take them days to go through it. “There might be another option,” Triss starts before trailing off. Tissaia arches an eyebrow, impatient. “Well?” The young mage clears her throat. “Right. You remember Istredd? Stregobor’s apprentice.”

Does she remember him? Yes, of course. He’d been the one to betray Yennefer’s trust, the reason she’d been sent to Nilfgaard instead of Aedirn. How could she ever forget? Tissaia nods curtly. “He’s with Nilfgaard,” Triss continues. “Maybe he knows something.” To her credit, she doesn’t look pleased with her own idea. It is logical and a fair assumption that Istredd may very well be of help but Tissaia is loath to admit it. Her eyes briefly go down to the scars marring Triss’s throat. Nilfgaard did this to her. Yet she’s suggesting going to one of them—the enemy—for help. “I can tell what you’re thinking,” Triss continues, her tone gentle as her soul. “Istredd is good, Tissaia. More importantly, he once cared about Yennefer and I’m hoping this will make him want to help her now.” Her normally endearing optimism is grating and does nothing to convince Tissaia, whose mood is already dour. But what other option is there? Yennefer is on borrowed time, or at least that’s what is assumed. Given the dangerous glint in her eyes whenever she looks at Tissaia, it’s not too far-fetched to believe her condition will get worse in the upcoming weeks. “Fine,” she ends up saying, defeated. “Find Istredd. Be discreet. If he tries anything…” She trails off. Triss is not a killer. Asking her to take a life is pointless. “I’ll be careful,” Triss promises, a hand reaching out to grab Tissaia’s in a gesture that is meant to be reassuring. “I’ll read the book while you’re gone,” Tissaia informs her. “Better get going now.”

If they’re lucky, the next time they meet will be under better circumstances.

__

The next two days are rather uneventful. Tissaia fulfills her obligations as Rectoress and teacher, and her spare time is spent in her quarters reading the book brought by Triss. It’s full of information, most of it new to her, but so far nothing that could help decontaminating Yennefer. Despair is starting to gnaw at her. What if there’s nothing they can do? Yennefer’s mind will fracture, and she will be lost to the darkness, Tissaia surmises. Oh, how she wishes she could march into Nilfgaard and demand a cure to the emperor himself! She’d eviscerate him right after. She thinks about Yennefer, down in her cell. The threats have stopped, giving way to a new form of torture involving her teasing and mocking Tissaia, as if she can sense that this might well be what makes her snap. Hitting her had felt good, Tissaia remembers with the barest hint of guilt. Yennefer’s delight at finally having found a way to destabilize her had only made Tissaia want to slap her again. Since then, she’s gotten herself back under control, but she doesn’t linger in the cell once the tray of food is set on the table. Those thirty seconds are enough for Yennefer to get under her skin, and Tissaia isn’t sure how long it’ll be until she falters and stops visiting her altogether.

__

Yennefer watches intently as her fingertips glow orange. She’s been trying to summon a flame for the past two hours, mostly out of boredom, but the best she can do is this pathetic glow. Still, it keeps her busy. Magic thrums within her, just beneath the surface, but whatever spells were cast on this room, they prevent it from coming out. Frustrating. She hears Tissaia’s footsteps before the doors to the dungeon even open, and she listens attentively as the click of her heeled slippers gets louder as she approaches. The mere presence of her in Yennefer’s vicinity causes her mind to conjure up gruesome scenarios of her demise, and Yennefer has to make a conscious effort to push them away. She’s gotten better at managing those, preferring instead to think about ways to prick at Tissaia’s carefully crafted façade.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it,” she says by way of greeting her captor. Tissaia ignores her sarcasm, making a beeline for the table where she sets down the tray a bit more harshly than necessary. Yennefer is on her feet in a flash, stepping closer. She notices the stiffness in Tissaia’s body as she turns around to face her. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Yennefer.”

That’s exactly what makes this entertaining, Yennefer wants to reply. She smirks and enjoys how Tissaia’s eyes drop to her mouth. How easy it’s become to read her lately. An open book. “What are you in the mood for, Rectoress? Because I can think of a few things we could be doing instead of bickering.”

Tissaia’s shoulders slump forward the tiniest bit—an admission of her weariness that makes Yennefer’s smile turn triumphant. Tissaia wants to wipe it off her face with a well-placed punch. Instead, she kisses her. Hard. Because she can’t stand this anymore and she's beyond exhausted and they're no closer to finding a cure for Yennefer. So she just kisses her, and Yennefer allows it, allows the meshing of their mouths, allows Tissaia’s hands to bring her head down to meet hers. Time stills. Yennefer breathes into her mouth, and Tissaia’s eyes open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. What she sees is smugness in violet irises, and she pulls away violently, as if burned. Yennefer licks her lips and raises an eyebrow, delighted by the turn of events. “You taste good, Tissaia.”

“Shut up,” the Rectoress growls, her back straightened and chin up now, hiding the shame that she feels at having let herself go like that. “This will never happen again. It was…” She trails off. What was it?

“A moment of weakness, perhaps,” Yennefer suggests, the mockery evident in her tone. Tissaia could knock her out and force-feed her a forgetting potion. At the moment, it seems like the best idea. Tissaia’s delicate features harden. “No. It was the only way I knew would shut you up for a minute.”

“Hmm… only a minute then,” the dark mage taunts her. Tissaia isn’t taking the bait. She brushes away imaginary lint on her dress, gives Yennefer a once-over, then marches toward the door under an amused pair of eyes. “Do come back for more when you’re ready,” Yennefer shouts after her, voice echoing on the stony walls and in Tissaia’s ears long after the words leave her throat.

__

Of course, despite telling herself not to go back and to simply make food appear directly into the cell, Tissaia is on her way to the dungeon the next day as if nothing extremely weird happened between her and Yennefer. There is no way she’ll let Yennefer win this… whatever this strange war is. She enters with the tray balancing on one hand while the other opens the door. Yennefer is sat on the floor, legs outstretched, playing with a lock of her hair. She doesn’t look up when Tissaia shows up, nor does she speak. That’s new. It throws Tissaia off. She’d expected more taunting, that perhaps she’d have to put a gag on Yennefer to make her shut up. “The food will be cold soon if you don’t eat, piglet.”

The nickname has the intended effect on her former student. Yennefer looks up sharply, rises slowly, and all but spits in her face. “Fuck you! And fuck your shit meal!” She grabs the plate and, with a strength Tissaia hadn’t expected, throws it against the wall. There’s a number of things that go through her mind in a fraction of time: one, Yennefer is strong. Physically strong. Two, she is angry and acting out, and Tissaia should reprimand her for that. Three, Tissaia’s own darker impulses threaten to rise to the surface and she can feel her magic thrumming in her body. And then, Yennefer’s lips are on hers, and her right hand is on her throat, and Tissaia is still trying to process it all so she does nothing to stop the onslaught. Tentatively, her own hands find purchase on Yennefer’s shoulders and, instead of pushing her away as they should, they pull her closer. Yennefer pours her frustration into that kiss, her need to hurt Tissaia shining through as she squeezes her throat ever so slightly and nips at her bottom lip until she can taste blood on her tongue.

Tissaia is quick to realize that despite how ferocious Yennefer is in her kisses, she submits easily to her touch. She digs her nails into her shoulders and Yennefer whimpers and softens her hold on Tissaia’s throat until it becomes a caress. Tissaia moves a hand up in black hair and pulls on it and Yennefer groans, breaking their kiss and resting her forehead against Tissaia’s. She’s a sight to behold. Tissaia thinks that maybe this is it. This is the way to subdue Yennefer and tame her anger while she and Triss work on finding a cure. Because the woman is pliable under her hands and something tells Tissaia that the hatred Yennefer feels for her might be a more complex mix of emotions. If she can use it, can keep in check Yennefer’s poor impulse control then it can buy her time.

For now, that’s enough. Tissaia pulls back, hands dropping at her side. Yennefer looks dazed and Tissaia imagines she must look a bit the same, though she gets herself under control almost immediately. “What are you doing to me,” Yennefer whispers as she closes her eyes to gather herself. “Your temper-tantrum means you will not be eating anything today, piglet. Do see to it that it never happens again.” Spell broken, Yennefer backs away swiftly, and lets her hands wrap around the back of the chair so tightly that she could swear the wood cracks. Tissaia turns on her heels and, as if nothing unusual has just transpired between them seconds ago, she bids Yennefer good day and leaves. The door slams, and of their own volition, Yennefer’s hands pick up the chair and throw it against it. “Fuck you,” she yells. She knows Tissaia isn’t too far to hear her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates a bit slower to come, sorry. I'm being distracted. Always lovely to read your thoughts!

By the sixth day, their strange dance has become somewhat of a routine. Tissaia brings food—different dishes each time, to Yennefer’s secret delight—and they barely talk because Yennefer is pressing herself against Tissaia before anything can be said. What is there to discuss anyway, Yennefer thinks bitterly. Holed up in this shitty cell there is nothing interesting for her to do or to see. Kissing Tissaia is her only distraction. It makes her feel good, which is such a paradox because whenever the other woman is not around Yennefer is furious with her and still plagued with thoughts of revenge. But when Tissaia is here, in her arms, lips moving against hers, acting as if Yennefer matters… her mind is quieter and all negative thoughts are pushed to the side. She makes the most of it. Perhaps she can even convince Tissaia to let her out of here, with time. The Rectoress, behind her practiced composure and indifference, isn’t nearly as pristine as Yennefer had imagined her to be. She can be downright cruel, too, when Yennefer pushes too far and grabs her too roughly, too eagerly. Tissaia disentangles herself from her when that happens, and she leaves the room without a word, only to be back at the end of the day and kiss her some more. Yennefer always tries to get the upper hand at first because this is still a battle between them but when she realizes that Tissaia leaves every time she gets too handsy, she starts to obey. The longer Tissaia stays, the longer Yennefer feels at peace.

__

A note is delivered to her chambers on the seventh night just as Tissaia is finishing the book that Triss left with her. The slip of paper is slid under her door and she gets up from her rocking chair by the fireplace to pick it up. She recognizes the handwriting: it’s Triss.

_He will help. May take time. Will be back in a fortnight._

She’s surprised the boy has decided to help, given how he and Yennefer had grown apart over the decades. Still, it’s good news and she sighs in relief. Istredd, as much as she despises him, is very knowledgeable. The book hasn’t given her much, although there are a few spells she could try. The hope that they’ll work is slim, but it is worth a chance.

She thinks of Yennefer, down in her cell. Tissaia isn’t a mind-reader—not quite—but she doesn’t need to pry into Yennefer’s mind to know her thoughts about this whole situation. It doesn’t seem to have registered with her yet that she’s been poisoned. Tissaia wishes she knew if telling her is the right decision or not. It might make her want to fight the darkness within her, or it might send her over the edge and try to claw her way out of Aretuza by any means necessary. She ought to think about it.

__

Soon enough, Yennefer starts craving Tissaia. She knows she's being conditioned like a fucking dog but it's stronger than her. She awaits Tissaia's visits every day, and feels her heart rate quickening when she hears the tell-tale sound of her heels on the cobbled stone of the castle. She still wonders if anyone else knows she's being kept here or if she has become Tissaia’s dirty little secret. She highly doubts Tissaia has told anyone she's shoving her tongue down the treacherous Yennefer's throat. The sighs and quiet moans the other woman makes drive Yennefer crazy with lust. It's like Tissaia isn't even aware of how needy she sounds and what a fucking melody to Yennefer's ears! She always tries to push for more at first, roughly and demanding, because a big part of her hates Tissaia and hates herself even more for feelings things she shouldn't be feeling for her. But Tissaia always pushes her away, slaps her sometimes and leaves the room and doesn't come back for the rest of the day, so Yennefer, loath as she is to admit it, starts to behave. She kisses Tissaia when Tissaia demands it, sits on her bed when she is ordered to, lets Tissaia brush her hair if it so pleases her.

Her resentment for her only grows. How can Tissaia do this to her? Keep her here against her will and pretend it’s not fucked up that they cling to each other and devour each other’s faces every day? As if Yennefer doesn’t hate her and hasn’t tried to kill her almost half a dozen times in the past year? How can Tissaia even stand to be near her knowing the hatred for her that flows in Yennefer’s veins? So many questions that will remain unanswered, she knows, because Tissaia won’t talk to her. She’s hiding something from Yennefer but that’s about the only thing Yennefer has figured out so far.

If she wants more—of what, she’s not sure herself—Yennefer knows that she has to make things move. She has to provoke a change. Tissaia has gotten too comfortable and now is most likely the time to strike, to catch her off guard. Her eyes settle on the chair and she starts plotting.

__

When Tissaia stops by the next day, she expects everything to go down as usual. Well. As unusual as that usual is. Yennefer stands in the middle of the room, hands behind her back, head hanging low. Tissaia pauses briefly in the doorway to take her in, and then she walks in, towards the table. The tray of food is placed there carefully, just in time before Tissaia is spun around by a Yennefer suddenly close to her. She feels something pressing against her ribcage and she chances a look down. Wood. That’s when she notices the broken chair, partially hidden by the bed. Yennefer has her pinned against the table, a half-baked stake piercing the fabric of her tight dress. Yet it doesn’t seem like Yennefer feels in control of the situation. Her eyes search Tissaia’s face frantically, unable to settle. Tissaia, always the master at concealing her emotions, hides her shock and raises an eyebrow at her. "So? What are you waiting for?"

Yennefer is furious, seething, and the stake applies more pressure to the point where Tissaia thinks it has pierced the skin, but she can't push it further in. Her former student grits her teeth, chokes back on a sob and Tissaia takes pity on her. "Put it down, Yennefer."

"Fuck you!" Yennefer steps back abruptly and then she holds the weapon to her heart, both hands unsteady as they point the stake directly to the vital organ. Tissaia stops breathing. “With nothing but time to think, I figured it out. How you did it. The shield, in that room. It’s tied to _my_ life. I can’t ever get out by myself. But if I die…” She trails off and chuckles, delirious. Tissaia tries to step closer but she’s met with a warning glare. “What am I still doing here, Tissaia? If I cannot leave, if I must stay your prisoner, I’d rather kill myself and be free!”

Had she not known Yennefer capable of going through with it, Tissaia would have called her bluff. But she remembers all too well slashed wrists and a pool of blood. She reacts swiftly with a wave of her hand, and the makeshift weapon flies from Yennefer’s hands to the wall on her right and shatters against it. "Silly girl," Tissaia growls. "What do you think you're doing?!" Without the threat of a weapon, she can finally move forward to plant herself in front of Yennefer. "If you want to keep me here forever you might as well kill me," Yennefer yells, tears of frustration and despair showing in her violet eyes.

Tissaia's heart shatters at the sight. It was to be expected, Yennefer figuring out how the shield worked, or that she’d spiral down. Foolishly, she’d thought perhaps showing her affection would appease her but Yennefer seems lost and broken, and maybe Tissaia being soft and letting Yennefer’s emotional turmoil remain unchecked despite her daily visits had done more damage than anticipated. What now? Yennefer’s arms are wrapped around herself and she looks at the ground, unwilling to meet Tissaia’s gaze, which prompts the older woman to act on impulse. She wounds a hand in Yennefer's hair and pulls back sharply, exposing her throat. “You will do whatever I tell you to do,” she instructs icily. “You will behave, or you will be punished.” Yennefer whines a little. She shouldn't be aroused by any of this. “You shall not try anything like this again, or I will be very angry. And believe me Yennefer, when I say that you have never seen me angry.” To emphasize the seriousness of her warning, Tissaia bites down on the exposed skin in front of her and Yennefer all but howls and her hands find Tissaia's back and she hears more than feels Yennefer's nails on her back.

“Fuck!” Yennefer can't believe this is actually happening. Tissaia de Vries is biting her, marking her, and she forgets everything else. She still hates her, hates to be held captive, hates everything in her life but the sensation that she feels at the moment. Tissaia pulls back, and when their eyes meet, she licks her lips. “You enjoy pain,” she states. “I get it.” Her delicate fingers let go of Yennefer’s wild mane and settle on the back of her neck. “I inflict pain,” Yennefer corrects her. Tissaia smiles softly and shakes her head imperceptibly. “My dear. You still think there’s a difference.”

They remain like that for a few more seconds until Yennefer pulls her into a rough kiss and leaves no choice to Tissaia but to allow it. A wet tongue traces the outline of her lips and she lets out a moan which only serves to spur Yennefer on. Bold hands palm her breasts through her dress and that’s what snaps Tissaia out of her trance. “Stop,” she orders in a breathy whisper. Yennefer stills immediately but does not remove her hands. Beneath them she can feel Tissaia’s heart beating fast. Will Tissaia hurt her if she disobeys her command? She wonders.

Tissaia, frozen, desperately tries to figure out what to do next. She should leave. The reasonable option is to leave. Yennefer isn't in total possession of her own self. She has been tricked by Nilfgaard and her very essence altered by dark magic, which means that anything she does or says cannot be truly herself. Tissaia would be taking advantage, abusing her trust, if that even exists. So she does the sensible thing and breaks away from Yennefer. “I will see you tomorrow morning,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t betray how shaken she feels. Yennefer turns away and doesn’t watch Tissaia as she walks out of the tiny room. The broken chair vanishes into thin hair and no replacement comes. Her punishment for breaking the furniture, Yennefer guesses. She doesn’t care.

__

Yennefer decides that taunting Tissaia is the fastest way to get under her skin. She riles her up until Tissaia attempts to make her stop talking by kissing her harshly, which means Yennefer wins, again and again. She angles for more, tries her luck because she doesn't care about anything but the way she feels when she's with Tissaia. “Oh, fuck,” she moans when she feels a hand fisting her hair painfully. Tissaia hates her so lovingly. When Yennefer misbehaves and lets her hands wander where they’re not allowed, Tissaia digs her nails in Yennefer’s shoulders cruelly, or slaps her, or chokes her a little, and she enjoys it way too much.

Tissaia feels like she's losing control of the situation and her own desires are set ablaze by Yennefer's attitude. She wants the other woman to submit, to finally stop trying to oppose her, to stop hating her. She wants so much more but her morals keep her in check. Still, it doesn’t stop her dreams from forming rather vivid images of forbidden desires come to life. She wakes in the morning, disoriented, wondering why she’s alone in bed, before shaking off the remnants of subconscious fantasies. This will not do. It certainly can’t go on. She ought to put an end to this, but Yennefer hasn’t threatened her in several days now, and she even seems in better spirits. Stopping whatever the hell they’re doing—kissing, her mind won’t let her forget it—might send them back a step or two. What a situation she’s put herself in, Tissaia thinks bitterly. She hopes Triss will come back with a cure. Then, they’ll be able to free Yennefer and send her on her merry way. She does not dwell on the way her chest constricts at the thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting reaaaal!
> 
> Real fucked up. That's what I mean.

One day changes their relationship forever.

Tissaia comes back to Aretuza from an errand on the continent and she is furious. Her hair is matted on her forehead and there’s blood on her dress, she’s missing a glove and the air crackles with magic around her. The students scurry out of her way as she stalks through the corridors until she reaches her chambers and locks herself in. The first thing she does is undress in front of the mirror to check for any sign of injuries. There’s a nasty bruise on her arm but she’s otherwise unharmed. In under a minute, she slips into hot, scented water and holds her breath, disappearing under the surface for long seconds, trying to drown her anger. When she emerges, gasping, hands finding the edges of the tub, Tissaia is just as angry. There is one way—and one way only—to appease her nerves. She intends to take her frustration out on Yennefer.

__

Naturally, because the universe wants to make her lose her mind, Yennefer chooses that day to stop playing along. It starts with the untouched tray from the previous day, on the table. Tissaia takes one look at it and turns towards Yennefer. “What is this?” Yennefer doesn’t reply. She takes a step back when Tissaia approaches and immediately notices the fury in her blue eyes. “What are you doing,” Tissaia asks, already exasperated. Yennefer petulantly crosses her arms and raises her chin. “I'm done being your plaything.” Tissaia's eyes narrow. What brought this on? She chooses to ignore it for the time being. “Did you know Emhyr sent an assassin to kill me today?” Yennefer falters. “Yes, it would appear he’s finally decided he needs you back in Nilfgaard and seems to be under the impression that I’m keeping you away.” She is, of course, but no one needs to know that. Let alone Nilfgaard.

How dare he, Yennefer thinks as her jaw clenches. She tries to look disinterested but the thought makes her angry. No one will ever lay a hand on Tissaia but her. “How should I know? You’ve kept me here as your pet for months now.” Tissaia’s eyeroll is infuriating. The words that follow it, even more. “You know why. You're dangerous. Not in control.” Yennefer scoffs and lets her arms fall back at her sides. Dangerous? Yes, of course. Not in control? That’s debatable. “I rather believe you want to control me. And I'm done with that.”

Tissaia watches her for a long moment, face blank and expression undecipherable. But Yennefer knows she's thinking fast. Her nostrils flare and she holds back a frustrated sigh that Yennefer still notices. Good. Tissaia seems close to breaking and yelling at her. This should be fun.

It doesn’t happen as Yennefer imagined it would, and really, she should know better by now. Instead of the scolding she expected, Yennefer is met with an order. “On your knees.” Has she heard right? Yennefer doesn't move, too stunned to do anything but stare. “Don't make me repeat it,” Tissaia warns. The only reason she yields is because she's curious. Not at all because she's aroused by Tissaia's suddenly domineering tone. But Yennefer drops to her knees, eyes never leaving Tissaia's.

Tissaia’s morals are shot to hell the moment she sees Yennefer obeying her order. Part of her had believed without a doubt that the young woman would scoff and tell her off. Part of her had _hoped_ Yennefer would deny her. Because now the last remnant of her control is gone, and she’s let her anger get the best of her and she’s about to make a mistake, she knows it. Like feeling the pull of the void while standing at the edge of a cliff. Tissaia, on a normal day, would step away. But today isn’t normal, today she was almost killed in an ambush and adrenaline is in no hurry to leave her body. The pull is too strong and she can’t look away. Yennefer is looking up at her with questions and a challenge in her pretty eyes and Tissaia takes the plunge. “I'm going to lie on your bed, and you are going to pleasure me. You will not touch me with your hands. You will not speak until I am done. Nod if you understand.”

Does she understand the words? Yes. Did she know Tissaia wanted her like that? Obviously. Did she suspect she’d be a control freak even in bed? Well, she had fantasized about it so it doesn’t come as a shock. Still, the fact that she is willing to bend to her own desires is completely unexpected but Yennefer will be damned if she loses the opportunity to fuck Tissaia de Vries. Remembering herself, she nods once, eyes darkening already. She'd never thought they'd get here but something in Tissaia seems to have snapped today and she will take her chance to ruin her and gain some power back.

Her eyes follow Tissaia as she takes her place on the unmade bed and sits primly on the edge. There is nothing uncertain in her gaze as she meets Yennefer’s. “Come.” As best as she can, on her knees, Yennefer makes her way to the bed until her breasts are brushing against Tissaia’s own knees. Without breaking eye contact, Tissaia’s hands gather her skirt and pull it up until it’s all bunched up around her waist. Yennefer has to resist looking down at her bare legs and pale thighs. Dear lord, she thinks as she realizes she’s beyond turned on by this, what are they doing? Tissaia leans back to rest on her elbows and Yennefer finally lets her eyes wander to the body in display in front of her. The undergarment disappears into thin air, and she sucks in a breath, then swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. Tissaia is a thing of beauty. Yennefer has to remind herself not to touch her, as if she’d vanish at the mere contact of skin upon skin. “Get to work, Yennefer. I don’t have all day. And keep your hands to yourself.”

Yennefer dives in with no apprehension and without any need for further prompting. The uncovered sex before her is wet and beautiful, and _this_ , she knows how to do rather well. The first touch of her tongue is electric and has Tissaia’s body quivering as her hands grab the mattress beneath her. “Mmh,” Yennefer hums, her eyes closing as she explores with care everything that’s been offered to her. The urge to use her hands is strong but she resists. She knows, if she disobeys, Tissaia will stop her or worse, stop _this_. Yennefer is far too aroused by the situation to risk it, so she behaves, her face buried between Tissaia’s legs. The thought alone is enough to make her ache. She chances a glance upwards and her eyes meet Tissaia’s while her lips wrap around an engorged clitoris. She sees the way Tissaia sucks in a breath, mouth slightly agape, and it makes her grin widely against her cunt. She decides that she wants to repeat the experience, because if Tissaia keeps coming back to her to get fucked then maybe one day she'll slip and give Yennefer something to use against her. That’s how she gets some power back, and that new plan is infinitely better than anything Yennefer could have come up with on her own.

She should avert her gaze. Tissaia knows she should look away. She’s already done enough damage as it is, taking advantage of Yennefer. The self-loathing will come with the morning, undoubtedly. Right now, her mind is too fogged up by the desire she feels. And she cannot tear her eyes from the sight of Yennefer performing cunnilingus on her while looking up at her with filth in her eyes that makes Tissaia’s hands itch to twist in her hair. Yennefer puts as much passion in her task as she does in every other aspect of her life, as much enthusiasm as she shows Tissaia when they kiss.

It's a whole new power dynamic now, with Yennefer bringing Tissaia to the brink of orgasm twice and scaling back, avoiding just the one stroke that would send her over the edge. Tissaia bites back moans that threaten to escape her, clinging to what little self-control she has left. Still, it’s not too long before she pulls on Yennefer’s hair to keep her head in place and grinds herself against Yennefer's eager mouth to get herself off. She comes with her eyes tightly shut and a silent moan as Yennefer tries her best to keep up with the erratic movements of her hips. Tissaia could swear she sees stars. Her limbs are heavy and she lets herself fall back onto the mattress, releasing her grip on Yennefer’s hair.

As soon as she catches her breath and her body stops trembling, Tissaia pushes Yennefer back and gets up on shaky legs, readjusting her dress to cover her body. When Yennefer stands up as well, Tissaia turns towards her. “Did I say you could stand?” Yennefer is back on her knees, an invisible weight on her shoulders. “Wipe your mouth. You're dripping.” Yennefer does as she’s told, pupils blown. She licks her lips and certainly doesn't miss how Tissaia's hand twitches at her side. “Eat your dinner tonight. No more of your silly fasting.” Tissaia turns to leave only for her step to falter when Yennefer replies. “Yes mistress.” Fuck. She doesn’t acknowledge the words, no. Tissaia needs out, _now_. This is too much, she berates herself as she makes her exit, quickly, guilt already gnawing at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It should not have happened. The stickiness between her legs is a shameful reminder of the boundary she’s crossed tonight.

__

Yennefer doesn’t think once about murder in the hours that follow. She sits on the floor by the bed, where she’d kneeled before Tissaia, lapping at her cunt. The memory of it is etched in her mind forever. The taste of her, still on her lips. Her eyes close. What has her life become? How is she supposed to go on now, knowing what Tissaia looks like, smells like, sounds like, tastes like? “Shit,” Yennefer whispers, burying her face in her hands. She’s trembling. Upset. This was supposed to be a game, to be a way for her to gain the upper hand, and instead… instead she feels empty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me as I try to figure out where this is going.

Tissaia works twice as hard to find a cure, to the point of exhaustion. She barely takes the time to eat, doesn’t linger after her classes, ignores the council’s request to hold a meeting. She doesn’t have time to suffer fools, not now. It takes her three days to find enough courage to check on Yennefer. She’s sent food using magic, tried to have the meals be what she imagined Yennefer’s favorites. She even conjured up a bathtub filled with warm water once every day for fifteen minutes so that Yennefer could bathe. It does very little to assuage her guilt. Tissaia burns with shame any time the thought of what she’s done crosses her mind, which is pretty much every waking minute. She remembers the look of hunger in Yennefer’s eyes, and the feel of her tongue working her up to orgasm. She hates the way her body betrays her even now, the memory of that bubble in time filling her with desire and longing. She has to tell the truth to Yennefer, about the dark magic. She has to. That’s what pushes her to go back to the cell.

__

The mage is not pleased to see her. “You use me and then pretend I don't exist,” she says bitterly when Tissaia hesitantly enters the cell and sets the tray on the table. She’s leaning against the far wall, eyes looking outside the small window. Yennefer can’t even bring herself to look at her, and Tissaia’s heart clenches. Still, she raises her chin and steps closer to her. “I was busy.” Yennefer scoffs insolently. “Right. Busy trying to forget what it feels like to get fucked by someone competent enough.”

Oh, how she knows how to rile up Tissaia! Her voice lingers on the obscene word and Tissaia becomes tense. She came here with a clear purpose in mind but Yennefer’s presence is derailing her from rational thoughts. Seeing her again… Tissaia has to avert her gaze. “What happened…” Words fail her.

“It made me feel good,” Yennefer interrupts her, saving her from the trouble of having to come up with an end to her sentence. “I could…” Yennefer winces, a frown on her beautiful face. There’s something she’s not telling Tissaia and Tissaia wants to know, so badly. “You could what,” she probes in a gentle tone. But Yennefer shakes her head and moves from her spot against the window to retreat to the table. She takes the apple on the tray and bites into it before putting it back down. Tissaia waits, and waits, and wonders if this is it, if she should leave and keep her revelation for another day. Yennefer, in the end, takes away her choice.

“Sometimes I think I hate you so much it will end up killing me. The other day, what happened was… you took my control away and it felt— _I_ felt that I could breathe again. I didn’t have to do anything but obey and it—it silenced the voices inside of my head.”

Does Yennefer know, then, about the black magic poisoning her? Tissaia wishes the girl would just look at her but Yennefer stubbornly keeps her eyes on the ground.

“The voices. Tell me about them,” she asks. She intends for her tone to be soft, but it comes out as pressing, urgent, commanding. Normally Yennefer would comment on it but not this time. She sighs, puts a hand on her hip, the other raising to run through her hair. Tissaia watches, hypnotized. “I don’t know. They sound like me. They’re angry, all the time. They…”

She turns to look at Tissaia, a frown appearing on her face. “They hate you so much,” she finishes. “I hate you so much.” But for the first time, she looks like she doesn’t mean the words. Exhaustion is written all over her face. Tissaia closes the gap between them, slowly, giving Yennefer enough time to move away if she wants. Yennefer doesn’t move. “And when I touch you,” Tissaia asks, bringing a hand to Yennefer’s cheek. Purple eyes flutter shut, lips parting slowly. “They fade away,” she murmurs. “But then you leave.” Eyes open, hardened. Tissaia drops her hand back at her side. “You leave, and you don’t come back for days and I’m angrier than before. I want to hurt you.”

“Do you want to hurt me now,” Tissaia questions. She knows the answer, can guess what’s going on inside the tortured mind of her former student.

“I want many things,” Yennefer tells her, cryptically. She wants Tissaia to touch her again but she’ll die before she admits that out loud. The way the other woman is looking at all—all soft and tender, as if she _cares_ —gets under her skin and Yennefer has to turn away. “I think I’ll eat my food now. You may leave.”

Tissaia, of course, does absolutely the opposite. She places a hand on Yennefer’s elbow, lets it slide down her forearm until she reaches a pale hand. Yennefer lets her. “Look at me,” Tissaia demands. Yennefer scoffs, defeated, as she faces her captor again. “What is it, mistress?” She can see how the word affects Tissaia. Conflict is written all over her features. For a moment, Yennefer wants to be cruel, like Tissaia’s been cruelly ignoring her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. But then the hand still holding hers caresses her thumb and she deflates, anger pushed aside once more, incomprehensibly.

“Sit. On the bed.” It’s an order, there’s no mistaking Tissaia’s tone. Yennefer shivers, grits her teeth. Is this going to happen again? At least she’s not kneeling this time. She obeys, and sits quietly at the edge, sensing Tissaia’s body close behind her before she sits and the woman towers over her. Tissaia cups her chin and bends down to kiss her. It's soft. Nothing like they've done so far. Yennefer is rattled. Is this a new power play? Tissaia gives nothing away, no other indication as to what is going to happen, what’s on her mind. All Yennefer knows is that this is gentle—gentler than anything she’s ever known and she rather likes it. It’s different. _Today_ is different. Gone is the frenzy, the hurry and the unbridled lust of their previous kisses. Today, Tissaia is slow, thorough in her exploration of Yennefer’s mouth, and the hand caressing her chin is almost tickling. Yennefer sighs against her soft lips. She feels her clothes being peeled away from her body and she allows it, even helps Tissaia in her task. She thinks of the bath she took earlier and is beyond grateful because there’s no way she would let this happen otherwise. “Lie down,” is the next order that comes her way. Yennefer glances up as she does so, curious when Tissaia follows her on the bed.

Tissaia doesn't disrobe. She doesn't ask Yennefer for anything but one: “I want you to be loud.” Yennefer can certainly do that. In fact, she wants to scream the moment she realizes that Tissaia is going to fuck her on her bed. Tissaia’s fingers finally touch her bare skin, and Yennefer bites back a moan only to have those fingers wrapped around her throat and squeezing. “What did I say,” Tissaia murmurs, not unkindly, looking into her eyes. “Please,” Yennefer chokes out. The pressure on her neck is gone, replaced by hungry lips.

Yennefer gasps, taking quick and shallow breaths as she whimpers “yes mistress” over and over again. She’s not sure if they’re still doing this, but spurred on by the words, Tissaia's mouth latches on to a nipple that is quick to harden and Yennefer moans loudly. “Good girl,” Tissaia breathes on her wet skin. Yennefer has never been more turned on in her entire life. Her mind is blank, her body lost in sensations she’s only ever dreamed of. Tissaia continues her descent until she's settled between Yennefer's legs and hums at the sight of her.

“Beautiful,” she comments, and Yennefer isn't sure she meant to say it out loud but it makes her insides clench and she lets out a whimper and a strangled “please, mistress,” knowing Tissaia won't deny her for long given how the title seems to turn her on.

“Will you be a good girl, Yennefer?” The tone is still soft, but there’s an edge to it, something that betrays the lurking darkness in Tissaia’s being.

Yennefer nods vigorously and Tissaia smacks her pussy to punish her. Immediately Yennefer understands her mistake. “Yes, mistress, yes. I will be a good girl,” she says, loud and clear and desperate.

The first touch of Tissaia’s tongue where Yennefer never really knew she wanted her is enough to get her to scream a string of expletives. She’s much closer to orgasm than she thought and oh, fuck, the sight of her former mentor between her legs is too much to take in. Yennefer groans when she feels two fingers entering her with an ease that should shame her but she doesn’t care. Tissaia is everywhere and she’s _gentle_ and that fucks her up even more. She wants her hatred back, because this is too much and she doesn’t want to feel this. Hatred is easier, she knows it well, it’s like breathing air. Watching Tissaia as she pleasures her is like being engulfed in fire. It burns and it burns, and Yennefer is losing her goddamn mind to the flames.

“Mistress,” she keeps begging, without really knowing what else to say. Tissaia whispers something unintelligible against the soaked flesh between her thighs and Yennefer moans, tremors running through her body. “Fuck, mistress this is—” Tissaia’s free hand goes up to caress her breasts and then starts massaging them roughly one after the other. Her mouth sucks at Yennefer’s clit, suddenly, without warning, and Yennefer's coming before she can ask permission, but in her defense Tissaia didn’t say a word about needing permission so Yennefer falls over the edge without restraint or fear. She screams Tissaia’s name with abandon, between “fuck” and “mistress” and she barely notices that teeth are biting into her inner thigh and her own hands hold Tissaia’s head there.

When she slams back into her own body, Yennefer notices that her hands are pinned to the mattress and she can’t move them. Tissaia is staring at her, eyes dark and inscrutable. Yennefer shivers under her gaze and for the first time ever, feels self-conscious about her nudity. She wants to speak but then Tissaia moves to hover over her, her long dress draping over Yennefer’s body, so she waits.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia says, her voice subdued. She looks so good on top of her. “Yes mistress,” she replies, still slightly out of breath. Tissaia seems conflicted and if only Yennefer couldn’t see the glistening of her lips and chin she’d probably pay attention but all she can focus on is the trace she’s left behind on Tissaia's beautiful face. She wants to lick her clean and the thought is unsettling. A hand brushes her hair away from her forehead and she closes her eyes for a second. “Yennefer,” Tissaia repeats softly, as if the name is foreign on her tongue. The ghost of a kiss, shyly placed at the corner of Yennefer’s mouth, a sigh, and then, in a flutter, Tissaia is gone, and Yennefer is left to wonder what the hell just happened, naked on her bed and surrounded by the smell of her own desire.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's your confinement going?

Tissaia doesn’t sleep that night. Her memories won’t let her. The self-hatred won’t let her. She paces in front of her bed, unable to push thoughts of Yennefer out of her mind. She’d forgotten herself for a moment in that cell, given away much more than intended. Yennefer… Tissaia sighs and plops down on the armchair near the fireplace, defeated. Her mouth is dry and she licks her lips, wishing she’d brought up wine from the kitchens. She definitely needs some to try and forget the things she did to Yennefer. She shivers. There’s a dull throbbing between her legs and she wishes it would go away already but it doesn’t. It can’t. Not when her mind is set on replaying her the images of Yennefer’s body, writhing in pleasure, or when her moans still echo in her ears.

“Fuck it,” Tissaia swears. She gets up abruptly, kicks off her boots and hastily sheds her dress, carefully placing it on the back of the armchair. The air in the room is warm enough due to the bright flames in the fireplace and she settles on top of the covers of her bed, naked. She closes her eyes and takes her time to control her breathing, as a hand trails up and down her body, fingertips grazing her skin just barely enough for her to feel them. She sees it clearly now. Yennefer’s face, gazing down at her with wonder in her eyes. Tissaia exhales raggedly; the mere thought of Yennefer above her sending jolts of desire through her entire body. She’d dreamed of it happening a few times over the decades. A fantasy she’d never really entertained, something so easily discarded with the dawn. Now? Everything has been turned upside down.

Tissaia moans as her right hand finally ventures south where she needs it. She’s already so sensitive that she figures it will not take her long to bring herself to orgasm. Eyes tightly shut, she remembers the sight and taste of Yennefer’s sex and she bites her lip, letting a finger enter herself idly. “Oh,” she sighs. The sounds Yennefer had made, the abandon with which she’d come, all but howling Tissaia’s name, and the way she’d called her “mistress” keep assaulting her mind and she slips in a second finger. “Fuck.” If only she could have Yennefer here with her! But it’s wrong to even think about it, she knows that. Her reason is gone for the moment as her hand moves faster. She wants Yennefer, wants her recklessly, wants her so much that she’s trespassed and taken advantage of her and oh, how Tissaia’s heart shatters at the thought. She never wanted it to happen like that. She’d hoped Yennefer would see the light and come back to her, long before finding out the mage had been poisoned. She’d hoped they would meet and talk and drink, and then Yennefer would find her, would slip into her room at night and ravish her. She’d hoped to hear breathy words whispered in her ear, hoped to look into purple eyes as their bodies grinded together in bliss.

A few well-placed strokes and Tissaia comes on her hand, back arching into the pillows and swollen lips parted in a silent moan, Yennefer’s name on the tip of her tongue. She holds it back, shamefully. She hasn’t earned the right to ever say it out loud, not like this.

Catching her breath, Tissaia lets her hand fall limply at her side and she closes her eyes, chasing away the fantasy. Her bones are weary and she feels exhausted, and yet sleep eludes her. Sensing that there will be no reprieve tonight, Tissaia reluctantly leaves the comfort of her mattress to stoke the fire. If she is to remain awake, she might as well get some work done. But first, she needs a bath. She knows it’s a futile attempt at cleansing herself from her weakness, that no amount of soap will wash away the guilt. Still, she scrubs herself raw.

__

A sharp pain in the chest wakes up Yennefer in the middle of the night. She doubles over and grunts, her jaw clenching as she tries to stand up and fails, her legs giving out. On her knees, she grits her teeth and waits. The pain evolves, moving through her as if it is in her bloodstream and Yennefer’s hands form fists against the cool floor.

_Tissaia_. This is her fault, for fucking with her head. Yennefer sees red. She let Tissaia trick her into forgetting her revenge, with her inquiring gazes and lustful touches, with her wistful sighs and her curious tongue… Yennefer’s hatred is all-consuming and the pressure building inside of her is too strong for her to hold it in. The scream that leaves her body is blood-curling.

She loses all sense of self as the pain engulfs her entirely. There is only one thing for her to cling onto and that is the thought of Tissaia, dying by her hand.

__

When Yennefer comes to, she’s on her bed again, and there is something cold and wet resting on her forehead. Her eyes flutter open and she winces. She tries to bring a hand to her temple and finds herself unable to do so. With difficulty, she raises her head just enough to look at her arm and see a cuff on her wrist. The other arm is paralyzed in the same manner. How did she even get back onto the bed? Her head is spinning but the pain has subsided, somewhat.

“You’re awake,” a voice says on her left.

It takes a moment for it to register, and then Yennefer is looking to the side as Tissaia enters her peripheral vision. The Rectoress stands tall next to the bed, hands clasped in front of her, and she looks down at Yennefer with carefully-practiced neutrality. But Yennefer sees them right away, sees the marks on her throat. Bruises. Angry, purple bruises that are clearly the shape of hands. She connects the dots instantly and her eyes widen in surprise. Tissaia stares at her with the imperceptible raise of an eyebrow.

“I did this to you,” Yennefer whispers, no question in her tone. Tissaia nods, smoothes her dress and sits down on the edge of the bed, turned towards Yennefer. “You called for me during the night.” Purple eyes find the small window and she frowns. It’s light outside. “I don’t know how you managed to break through the shields, but you sent me a message so I came,” Tissaia continues. “You tried to kill me as soon as I stepped in. I must say, you took me by surprise.”

“I don’t—I don’t remember anything. I… Pain, there was pain. And then, nothing.” Searching her memory is pointless; Yennefer realizes quickly. She must have passed out. Tissaia reaches for the compress on her head and pulls it away. It disappears in her hand and she sighs. “Yennefer…” She trails off, licks her lips and looks away.

“What is it,” Yennefer probes. There’s a moment of truth coming, she can feel it. Tissaia is never reluctant to speak unless she has to announce something that doesn’t please her. “Tell me.” The restraints on her wrists prevent her from moving too much but she still manages to grab a hold of Tissaia’s skirt. The other woman lets her. Her eyes follow the movement of Yennefer’s hand and stay on it long after it’s stopped moving.

“He poisoned you. Emhyr. Given how strong a hold dark magic seems to have on you I imagine he started doing it decades ago.” She watches as Yennefer’s fingers tighten in the fabric of her dress. So she didn’t know. Tissaia is only mildly surprised. “The hatred, the violence… all those negative emotions they were certainly already there, within you. The dark magic amplified them until they became all that you know.”

“You’re telling me nothing that I feel is real? That I’ve been… _manipulated_ , all this time?” Yennefer looks away, shaking her head. How is that even possible? But then, suddenly, it comes back to her. How often she’d been summoned by the emperor and offered a glass of wine while they discussed his political ambitions. “It’s not that nothing is real, Yennefer,” Tissaia’s voice calls her attention again. “But that the dark magic has been distorting your perception of the world and your emotions.” Her tone is soft, and there is no contempt or disgust in her eyes. Yennefer lets out a frustrated sigh. “It explains… a lot. I can’t fight it. Why can’t I fight it?” Tissaia scoffs and shrugs. “If I were to guess I’d say it’s because you were a willing and potent recipient for the darkness. It liked your power. And with time it took over.”

They stare at one another then, for a long moment. There are many things Tissaia wants to say and she surmises the same goes for Yennefer. The silence is heavy with unspoken words that she can hear anyway. Yennefer struggles, it’s written all over her face. She struggles with the reveal, with trying to figure out which feelings are her own and which were corrupted by magic. Tissaia watches it all happen quietly and she waits, giving Yennefer time to adjust.

“I did want to kill you,” the younger mage admits in a hushed tone after a while. “When they told me I’d be going to Nilfgaard instead of Aedirn. I was so angry and so hurt…” She looks ashamed and Tissaia takes pity on her. She reaches for Yennefer’s hand and covers it with her own. “You thought I had betrayed you, and you were young. That is all in the past, Yennefer. You cannot blame yourself for that.”

“But it fueled the dark magic and it gave it exactly what it needed: a target. Someone to focus on, to let the hatred grow. I gave it an easy access because I was—”

“Because you were a _child_ ,” Tissaia interrupts. “Still trying to find yourself. Nilfgaard found a way to prey on you that no one could have anticipated.” She will not let Yennefer take all of the blame for her predicament. Yennefer, who looks so lost and vulnerable in this moment, as if her hands hadn’t been squeezing the life out of Tissaia a few hours earlier. Tissaia blinks away the memory.

She retracts her hand only to have Yennefer stop her. “Don’t,” she says softly. Then, looking up at her, Yennefer offers a small shrug. “I don’t understand why but…” Tissaia allows her to not finish that sentence. She’s fairly sure she can guess. She’s noticed it before, how her touch soothes Yennefer, appeases the darkness within her. She doesn’t understand why, and right now it doesn’t matter. Her delicate fingers wrap around the cuffed wrist of the younger mage and she smiles tentatively. “I’m going to heal you, Yennefer. In fact, I tried a few spells while you were… asleep.” Knocked out by magic, she means to say. Yennefer chuckles at her choice of word. “I don’t think they had any effect, sadly. Do you know Triss Merigold? Surely you’ve heard of her?”

Yennefer nods. She has indeed. “Triss reached out to Istredd,” Tissaia says. Yennefer’s eyes widen. “Why? What makes you think he would ever want to help?” They haven’t spoken in a long time, and she still has a lot of resentment for him. What would Istredd gain in helping her? “Sometimes people surprise us,” Tissaia tells her cryptically. Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Like suddenly asking someone to get on their knees?”

As if burned, Tissaia takes back her hand and looks away, smoothing a non-existent crease in her dress. She clears her throat. Yennefer is merely teasing but her gut is churning with guilt still. “Yes, well. I should not have done that. Knowing your condition.” Yennefer scoffs and repositions her head on the pillow. Tissaia still won’t look at her and she sighs. “Oh come on. All that tension between us… it was bound to come to a head at some point. Though what kind of head…”

Tissaia shoots her a disapproving glare and Yennefer offers her best grin. Then, she feels her mind getting clouded and there must be a change in her demeanor because Tissaia frowns and her hand is back on Yennefer’s arm, stroking her biceps slowly. “What happened just now,” she asks softly. There’s a pregnant pause while Yennefer tries to gather her thoughts. “I… I think I felt it. Black magic. I pushed it back. _You_ ,” she realizes. “You pushed it back.” Tissaia nods gravely, eyes riveted to the slow movement of her hand on Yennefer’s arm. “Why,” Yennefer asks in a hushed tone. Tissaia refuses to meet her gaze. “You need to rest,” she says instead of answering Yennefer’s question. “I’ll come back later.”

It's pointless to try and stop her. Yennefer knows better than to even attempt to keep her here. Tissaia needs to leave and collect herself, needs to go in order to not let anything slip and Yennefer, even though she hates that, understands. “Will you leave the cuffs on?” They’re a pain in the ass and she can’t move from her current position with them. Tissaia hesitates, takes her in, then nods. “Yes, it’s better for now. I’ll find something else; this is temporary.” She goes to stand but Yennefer stops her as best as she can with one hand. “Don’t leave me alone for too long.”

It goes unspoken, what she truly wants to say. Tissaia sees apprehension in her beautiful eyes; a fear, perhaps, of losing herself to the darkness again. She guesses that knowing there’s poison in her blood and mind is probably scaring Yennefer, and rightly so. Dark magic is unpredictable. “Rest. I’ll be back before you know it.” Yennefer nods, uncertain, and she lets go of Tissaia’s dress but the Rectoress makes no move to leave. Instead, she crouches next to the bed so that her face is barely above the level of Yennefer’s, and she grabs her chin gently between a thumb and index finger. Yennefer allows it, and looks at her questioningly. “We’ll find a way, Yennefer.” She sounds so sure and Yennefer wants to believe her, especially when her hand is stroking her chin ever so slowly, soothing her.

Then, Tissaia stands tall again, and her warmth has left Yennefer’s skin. “Trust me,” Tissaia says, almost as if ordering her to do so, and then she turns on her heels and she exits the cell, already too far to hear Yennefer’s quiet “yes, mistress.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I have absolutely no idea where this is going? Jesus. I don't like thiiisssss.

Triss makes contact right after Tissaia makes it back to her chambers. Her magic probes at Tissaia’s mental shield until her former teacher allows her in, just as she settles in her armchair.

_We found an ancient spell that could work. It won’t be painless._

Tissaia closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She’d expected as such. Nothing about dark magic could possibly be painless.

_When can you be here?_

The sooner, the better. If they’re in Nilfgaard, or close…

_We don’t want to be traced back to Aretuza so I cannot create a portal. Istredd will accompany me as we need herbs for a potion to go with the spell. He knows where to find them. If all goes well, we should be in Aretuza in less than ten days._

Ten days. So many things could go wrong in ten days, Tissaia thinks. But there is no alternative. Triss is right; magic should not be used in case Nilfgaard could track it all the way back to Aretuza, which would likely cause a war. The emperor is already quite sure that she’s keeping his mage captive. No need to give him another reason to be on the war path.

_Do as you must, but hurry. Yennefer is struggling with keeping the darkness at bay. I fear her soul may be permanently damaged from it already._

She will not admit this out loud. The possibility of losing Yennefer is one Tissaia cannot entertain, for it cuts into her too deeply and it _hurts_. Triss knows, instinctively. She’s observant and understanding, empathic. She assures Tissaia that they will be there as soon as possible and then Tissaia is alone in her own mind again. Only then does she notice how hard her hand is gripping the armrest. She lets go and massages her hand slowly, until it doesn’t ache as much.

She’s tired. Searching for a cure has taken a toll on Tissaia. Trying to ignore her own feelings, after everything that’s happened, well… she’s still figuring out how to do that. Her fingers caress the bruises on her throat, and she knows she will have to make those disappear before giving her morning lesson in half-an-hour. Too many questions would be asked, too many eyebrows raised. She remembers the way Yennefer’s hands had wrapped around her neck, squeezing the life out of her. She remembers the ferocious look in eyes that had all but turned black. She’d seen the swirls of darkness in them. Tissaia, for the briefest of moments, had considered letting Yennefer go through with it. Perhaps, then, her guilt would have finally left her in peace. Her guilt for failing Yennefer all those years ago, for not fighting harder for her, for falling _in love_ with her in spite of all of that.

Tissaia exhales slowly and leans against the desk in her room. She’s avoided thinking about _that_ for so long. Yet it seems laughable now to keep denying her feelings, especially after everything that’s happened between them. She’s unsure of where Yennefer stands, of what’s hidden behind the hatred, but Tissaia has been around long enough to know that some things cannot be faked. Desire is one of them and Yennefer, well… Yennefer certainly seems to lust for her. The question that she wants answered most is, does Yennefer feel more than that?

__

Cuffed to the sturdy wooden structure of the bed, there’s not much that Yennefer can do. She stares at the ceiling above and imagines Tissaia giving her lessons of the day, and then going to her study to try and find a cure for her. Her petite figure morphs into that of Emhyr, and Yennefer tries to blink the image of him away to no avail. He’s there, lurking in her mind, and she remembers all of their meetings and wonders how many times those were used to poison her.

She feels a surge of anger and takes a deep breath to calm down. It wouldn’t do to be completely out of her mind with rage when Tissaia comes back. Now that she knows, Yennefer resolves to try her hardest not to let the darkness take over. It’s there, she can feel it threatening to possess her entirely, enticing her with images of violence and power, to which she has succumbed before. Not anymore. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, focusing on pleasant things. Waterfalls, green meadows, sex, good ale, Tissaia…

“Fuck,” she swears under her breath. She cannot think about her. Tissaia evokes too many conflicting emotions within her. She’s dangerous territory. And yet, once blue eyes, pale cheeks and thin lips paint themselves behind her eyelids, Yennefer finds herself stuck. When it’s not her face floating in her mind, it’s her body. Her perfect, soft, beautiful body. Yennefer shakes her head in vain. It’s too late, she realizes. Tissaia is well and truly under her skin. The Rectoress had managed to secure a permanent corner in her mind but Yennefer, used to it, had successfully silenced her disapproving voice quickly after joining Nilfgaard. That corner had grown to take up so much space that it was almost suffocating. Yennefer felt constantly torn between hatred, rancor and desire. It’s only gotten worse ever since their meeting at Sodden Hill.

Yennefer remembers marching forward, through death, to find Tissaia who was holding back the forces of Nilfgaard. She remembers how she’d watched her display of powerful magic, and how Tissaia had looked so surprised to see her there. Yennefer had felt her confusion and her fear. She’d taken it all in, greedy, and then she’d thrown black powder in her former mentor’s face with not an ounce of hesitation or remorse. She’d watched gleefully as Tissaia had fallen to her knees, eyes never leaving hers.

In the distant horizon, she’d heard a horn, signaling fallback. Foltest’s army had most likely arrived and her side was retreating. She’d held her dagger to Tissaia’s ribcage, wanting nothing more than to plunge it into her very core and drive it up to her heart. She remembers how her arm had started shaking uncontrollably, as if struggling against an invisible force. Tissaia had waited silently, trying to breathe through the pain the dimeritium was no doubt causing her.

She hadn’t been able to finish her off. Whatever part of her fighting against the darkness had managed to make Yennefer spare Tissaia. Knowing what she knows now, Yennefer is beyond thankful. Her hatred of Tissaia was just that—hatred. Not strong enough to ever want the older woman dead, and certainly not by her hand. The thought of having to live with Tissaia’s death on her conscience fuels Yennefer’s angry fire. But for the first time in as long as she can remember that anger is not directed at Tissaia, no.

Emhyr var Emreis is going to pay.

__

The sun is almost set when Tissaia finally makes it back to the cell. She’s frustrated; Yennefer can tell by the way her heels click on the cobblestone. Her steps are short and quick. The door opens, and then, there’s a strained silence as she places a tray of food on the table. Yennefer doesn’t move or acknowledge her presence.

“I’m sorry,” Tissaia begins. “I had intended to come back sooner but I was asked to supervise… it doesn’t matter. I should have been here sooner. How are you feeling?” Her words are met with a long-suffering sigh and Tissaia dreads her answer.

“Do you know that they stripped me of my magic for half a year, when I arrived in court? It’s a rite of passage, apparently. Who does that? They’re in need of a mage and when they finally find one competent enough, they take the magic away.”

No, Tissaia didn’t know that. It’s not that surprising. The former Nilfgaard emperor was an old, misguided fool with a deep distrust of anything he didn’t understand. She remembers him well. Certainly a man who had not trusted a lot in his lifetime. She steps closer to the bed but keeps a safe distance. Yennefer’s current mood is hard to gauge.

“They were testing me; I realized. I received training in swordsmanship and horse-riding. They wanted me ready for battle. That’s how long they’ve been thinking about revenge. Decades, Tissaia. No matter what little truce you think the continent has with Nilfgaard now? It’s a farce. It won’t last. Emhyr will strike again.” Her voice is hollow which makes it hard for Tissaia to figure out if this is Yennefer or the darkness in her talking.

“He doesn’t have you,” she points out judiciously. “I can’t imagine him trying anything without you at his side.”

“He’s got others.” Yennefer finally looks at her, head turning on the pillow. She notices that the bruises on her throat are gone. Tissaia undoubtedly erased them before attending to her morning classes. “He’ll find me, you know? I’m sure he already figured out where I am.”

Tissaia looks away, at the small window through which she can see the night sky. Yes, he certainly knows Yennefer is being kept against her will and he also knows there’s only one place on the continent he could not simply barge in and take her back. Aretuza is a fortress with magic shields everywhere. They’d see him coming from miles away.

“I’m fine, by the way. You’re allowed to come closer. I won’t bite,” Yennefer jokes with a tentative smile when Tissaia redirects her attention to her. The Rectoress automatically makes her way to Yennefer and sits down beside her. “No thoughts of murder then,” she inquires with a soft, teasing smile. Yennefer shakes her head no. “Good.” In an instant, the cuffs tying her to the bed are gone and Yennefer sits up. Taking her place besides Tissaia, with a safe distance between them, she massages her wrists. They’re a bit swollen but don’t hurt. “I really am sorry,” Tissaia says, looking at her wrists. “It’s fine. You were busy.”

“No, I mean… I mean for not fighting harder all those years ago, to secure you a place in another court. The truth is, I thought Nilfgaard was a rather inoffensive kingdom. I knew you wouldn’t thrive there, but I figured you wouldn’t be hurt or demeaned either. I thought—I thought it would give you time to grow into your own person. Quite obviously, I was wrong.”

Yennefer sees the downturn of Tissaia’s lips and the crease of her brow, and she knows the Rectoress feels all the guilt for what she no doubts thinks of her failure to protect a student. She quells the dark satisfaction immediately and shifts closer, a hand encompassing Tissaia’s. “I was too angry to realize I was being manipulated. I don’t want to be angry anymore. It’s exhausting,” she confesses, eyes downcast. She doesn’t notice that Tissaia is leaning in until her head is resting on Yennefer’s shoulder. It takes her by surprise, and she stills, not daring to take a breath. “My dear girl,” Tissaia begins, “sometimes anger and exhaustion are all that we have to go on.”

They remain like that for long seconds, in a silence that stretches until Tissaia frees up one of her hands and places it on Yennefer’s thigh. Yennefer’s breath hitches and she gulps. Every one of Tissaia’s touches is purposeful and has meaning, she knows this by now. The hand doesn’t move and she feels its warmth through the shitty fabric of her pants. Yennefer’s mind is assaulted with images of pale hands on her naked thighs, spreading her open and she clears her throat in a futile attempt to shake the thought away. But then, Tissaia turns towards her to look her in the eye and she finds it hard to maintain eye contact. “There might be a cure. Triss contacted me earlier to say she’d be here soon with… well, with hopefully a cure.”

It’s hard to not feel hopeful when there’s a smile on Tissaia’s face. She’s beautiful, Yennefer thinks. And then she’s kissing her before she can even process that she’s moved. Their lips meet and Tissaia must have seen her coming because her hands immediately find their place in Yennefer’s hair, caressing it tenderly. It’s a lot more chaste than any kiss they’ve shared before and Yennefer savors it. Teeth nip delicately at her bottom lip and she flicks her tongue to caress Tissaia’s upper lip. The older woman chuckles and places one last kiss at the corner of her mouth before moving back a little. Her hands drop from Yennefer’s hair to her shoulders before finding their way back on her own lap. Yennefer wants to protest the loss but before she can, Tissaia surprises her once more.

“How would you like a short walk outside?”


	11. Chapter 11

The ocean air is fresh and damp. Yennefer loves it. She closes her eyes and lets the breeze wrap around her like a caress. It’s been so long since the last time she set foot outside that she could weep. Tissaia stands close; her fingers are brushing against Yennefer’s, keeping the barest contact with her to ground her in case the darkness were to suddenly take over again. Yennefer had watched in silence as Tissaia had disabled the shields protecting the cell, preventing her from getting out on her own. She’d counted at least four different incantations but couldn’t be sure; Tissaia’s lips moving silently as she recited them. The sun has long set now, its orange glow a faint trace in the horizon. It’s relatively safe to be outside under the cover of the night. Tissaia wouldn’t take unnecessary risks.

Yennefer feels the urge to hold her hand so she does. Tissaia doesn’t comment on it, she allows the simple touch and runs her thumb on the back of her hand. Side by side they stand, breathing in and out to the sound of the waves dying on the cliffs. “You understand why I’m keeping you locked in that cell, yes?” It’s the first words Tissaia has spoken since they set foot outside. Yennefer gazes at her and nods. “I do. I hate it, but… I understand. Besides, I did try to kill you a bunch of times. This is my penance.”

She sees the faint smile on Tissaia’s thin lips. How far they’ve come over the past few weeks! She can scarcely believe it. “It will soon be over,” Tissaia assures her again. “We should head back.” Yennefer hears the worry in her voice, despite the late hour, despite the obscurity. She inhales deeply and nods. “Well, then. Lead the way, mistress.” It’s said in jest but Yennefer notices Tissaia grips her hand harder and she has to laugh. Of all the things about Tissaia that she could have found out, her enjoying being called _that_ was not one of them.

She follows as the other woman all but drags her inside, pulling on her hand. Certain that Aretuza is a fortress, there are no guards to the side entrance and they slip in as easily as they’d slipped out. The dungeon is dark, torches on the walls lighting up as they pass by. Yennefer could decide to leave now. She could take her freedom back and portal away. A small voice at the back of her mind is screaming at her to just do it. Instead, she waits until she’s safely back inside of the cell with the door slammed shut behind her to push Tissaia against it.

The small gasp that Tissaia makes when her back hits the door is swallowed by a pair of warm lips and she finds herself throwing her arms around Yennefer’s neck to pull her in closer. She’s well-aware that Yennefer could have disappeared in a cloud of black magic, even after not practicing it for months. The fact that she chose to stay, here, in a place she hates with the woman holding her captive… Tissaia melts into her touch and pours her soul into the kiss. She wants so much more and she knows with absolute certainty that Yennefer would give it to her. The hands creeping onto her ass are proof enough that the younger woman desires her just as much and Tissaia moans into her mouth. The sound has Yennefer smiling against her; Tissaia feels it. They break apart and share a light chuckle. She should be embarrassed, perhaps, by her eagerness and by how easily affected she is around Yennefer. “Sleep with me,” Yennefer whispers against her lips. Her voice makes Tissaia shiver. “No,” she says in a breathy tone. “I can’t.” Yennefer whines and lets her forehead rest against Tissaia for a moment. “Please,” she tries again. Tissaia can feel her resolve breaking. She wants to stay, of course she does. But it’s not wise, it’s not safe. She needs to put some distance between them and the shields have to go back up. Reality catches up with her and a hand comes up on Yennefer’s upper chest to push her back slightly. Yennefer resists, stealing another kiss before Tissaia can forbid it. “Yennefer, stop,” Tissaia demands, mumbling against insisting lips. Immediately, the other woman freezes and pulls back to look her in the eye.

“I must put the shields back up,” Tissaia tells her, rearranging her dress. Yennefer glances at the door and steps back with a pout. “Fine. Do as you must.”

As soon as she’s free to move, Tissaia gets to work. Most spells are easy and quick to cast but the one tying Yennefer’s life to the cell takes longer. On the other side of the tiny room, Yennefer stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall. She’s watching intently, and it’s perhaps why she doesn’t realize she’s let her guard down. Suddenly, the small voice in her mind is booming and she sees red. Tissaia is _right there_ and it would be so easy to kill her and escape. She’s facing the door, too, which makes Yennefer’s job that much easier. She marches forward and crosses the room until she stops in her tracks and winces in pain.

It feels like her head is being split open and she brings her hands to it as she falls down on her knees. The sound must alert Tissaia because she looks back and Yennefer meets her eyes briefly. Tissaia is mid-incantation and she should not stop, especially when this spell is essential to keeping Yennefer here. “Go on,” she says through gritted teeth. “Hurry.” She hears Tissaia’s hurried tone, faintly, already seeming so distant as she tries to breathe and fight off her murderous thoughts. She doesn’t know how long it lasts, nor how long Tissaia keeps muttering words that she doesn’t understand. All she knows is pain.

“It hurts,” she grunts, “it _fucking_ hurts!” She’s curled into herself, on the floor, wondering how long she can hold on when she feels a presence next to her. “You’re fighting it,” Tissaia whispers as she finally understands. “You’re fighting it from inside and it’s trying to get its hold on you back.” She places a tentative hand on Yennefer’s shoulder and rubs small circles on it. When Yennefer doesn’t attack, Tissaia brings her other hand to Yennefer’s forehead, damp with perspiration. “Breathe, Yennefer. Keep breathing. You can get through this.” She doesn’t know if her words bring any comfort at all, but the beautiful mage isn’t making any pained sounds now so surely her condition must be getting better. A thought occurs to Tissaia and she closes her eyes to focus.

_Yennefer._

She feels a hand clutching her dress so she presses on.

_Do you remember when I taught you meditation all those years ago? I told you to reach deep within yourself, for it would always be who you truly are. Yennefer, please. Listen to my voice and let it guide you. You have to keep fighting. The darkness has not yet taken all of you, it has not consumed all of you. Fight it._

Before her, Yennefer chokes back on a sob but she obeys. Tissaia sees it in the way her eyes are tightly shut and her teeth gritted, in how she manages to keep her hands away from Tissaia’s throat. “Breathe, darling,” she whispers. “Remember to breathe.” It’s another long minute of pain before Yennefer’s body stops trembling and her jaw unclenches. Tissaia caresses her hair and face soothingly, murmuring words of encouragements. “Good girl,” she lets out once Yennefer’s hand releases the fabric of her dress. Her joints must be aching now. Purple eyes open to meet blue ones and there’s a second where Yennefer looks lost, as if she doesn’t remember where she is, but then it’s gone. She offers a small smile, but the corners of her lips so feebly turn upwards that it ends up looking more like a wince.

“You did it,” Tissaia remarks with pride. “You pushed it back.” She helps Yennefer to sit up but it quickly seems apparent that the woman has little strength left in her. She settles for holding herself up on her elbows and Tissaia brushes black hair out of her face. “We should get you into bed. I’ll go fetch some water to clean your face.”

Yennefer wants to protest; her limbs are too heavy for her to move to the bed. She finds that she cannot even speak so she has no other choice but to let Tissaia hoist her up, arms reaching under her shoulders to pull her on her feet. She’s grateful that the cell is small—it means the bed is right next to them and makes the transition from the floor to the mattress a lot easier. Tissaia, under her petite figure, sure hides a lot of strength. In just a few seconds and with a burst of energy on Yennefer’s part that she didn’t know she still possessed; she’s lying on the bed with Tissaia looking down at her with a triumphant smile. “Give me five minutes,” she tells her. Yennefer nods and closes her eyes. She doesn’t watch her leave, tries not to focus on the footsteps fading away. She tries not to let fear invade her. Tissaia will be back soon, she said. She will be back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will I be done torturing those two? Stay tuned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we're not THAT far from the end of the story. I think. I might have a clearer idea on exactly how many chapters are left by the time I post the next one.
> 
> Thanks for leaving kudos and comments; it means a lot and I do notice y'all commenting regularly, double thanks for that!

Tissaia is true to her word. She returns no more than five minutes later but she has no water with her. She has flowers, and many of them. Yennefer’s brow furrows. “What…” Already, Tissaia is sitting down on the edge of the bed, flowers in hand. “Magic, dear. I was not going to risk being caught with a basin and a basket of food. Yes, food. The tray I brought earlier looks ghastly now. I will summon everything directly into this cell.” And so she does, under Yennefer’s watchful eyes. She’s seen magic being performed countless times before, but there’s something about Tissaia that commands her attention and awe. She’s majestic and makes magic look so effortless, and Yennefer wants to wrap her arms around her when the flowers decay and a tub filled with hot water appears in the middle of the room along with a tray full of bread and cheese and fruits. “Tissaia,” she breathes. She feels weak still, but nothing could stop her from getting into that bath.

“Eat first,” Tissaia orders when she senses Yennefer moving. “You’ll get some strength back and the water isn’t going to grow cold.” Yennefer throws herself on the food, uncaring that Tissaia is looking at her with reprobation in her eyes. A few crumbs in a bed never killed anyone, at least not to her knowledge. After a short moment of watching Yennefer inhaling food, Tissaia picks up an apple from the tray and bites into it. They come from the best apple trees in the continent, she knows that for sure because she’s scoured the earth enough times to have tasted most of the delights it offers. She chews delicately and only pauses when she sees Yennefer’s eyes on her. “What is it?”

Yennefer clears her throat and gestures toward her mouth. “You’ve got some… juices. There.” She wants nothing more than to lick it clean but she settles for watching as Tissaia’s tongue does the job. “Oh, thank you. You should have one of those,” Tissaia says, completely oblivious, as she points to the second apple on the tray. “They’re delicious.” She shakes her head no. “Maybe later. I’m not hungry anymore.” She eyes the tub, and Tissaia sighs before putting down the rest of her apple. “Fine, then. Let’s get you in there.”

__

Getting Yennefer into the tub is not an easy task. She’s still weak and she needs help taking off her clothes, she needs help standing up and walking to the water, and she needs help stepping into it. Tissaia has her hands all over her, and it does nothing to diffuse the tension she feels in the room—most of it coming directly from Yennefer. Tissaia knows exactly what it means but she cannot let herself be distracted. When Yennefer sinks into the water, an unholy moan escapes her lips and Tissaia has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react to that. “Fuck, the water’s perfect,” Yennefer praises, arms disappearing under the surface. “Will you wash my hair,” she asks Tissaia.

“Of course. Lean forward a little so I can pour water on it.” Yennefer chuckles. “No need,” she replies before sinking entirely into the water. Tissaia watches, amused, as a bubble of air pops to the surface. Yennefer takes a good twenty seconds before coming up for air. “Impressive,” Tissaia comments with a raised eyebrow. “You would make a great siren.” Yennefer grins at her. “Would you let yourself be convinced to join me in the water if I sang?” Oh, Tissaia wants to and Yennefer’s sinful smirk is close to breaking her resolve. She shakes her head lightly and sighs. “Behave, Yennefer.”

Tissaia takes her place behind her, kneeling on the floor as she puts some lotion in her hands to apply to Yennefer’s wild mane. Of course Yennefer sets out to make her uncomfortable and doesn’t hold back her moans while Tissaia massages her scalp thoroughly. “Oh I could fall asleep in here,” Yennefer sighs, head lolling forward. Tissaia smiles. The next minute is spent in a silence only broken by Yennefer’s quiet, appreciative groans. Tissaia has to think of anything but the naked woman in front of her to keep herself from jumping into the water with her. But then, after she’s done rinsing the hair, Yennefer leans backwards, pressing her wet upper back against Tissaia’s front and drenching her clothes. “Yennefer, really?” The younger woman doesn’t reply. She takes Tissaia’s right hand holding on to the edge of the tub and brings it to her upper chest. “I had a really trying night and I would be forever grateful if you could make it better,” she drawls.

Time stills, and with it, Tissaia’s entire body. Her brain takes in the current situation: Yennefer’s head so close to her, soapy water doing nothing to hide her spread legs, and a hand holding hers firmly against naked flesh that she so wants to caress. Tissaia gulps. Tonight was not about any of that. She’d hoped to be able to leave this… _aspect_ of their relationship to the side, but it appears to be stronger than her willpower. Slowly, her hand creeps lower as she turns her head to the side and nuzzles Yennefer’s ear. “What can I do for you, Yennefer?” She doesn’t expect a whine as a reply but Yennefer seems incapable of words, not when Tissaia’s lips brush against her skin. Tissaia cups a firm breast in her hand and Yennefer’s head falls back, on her shoulder. There’s no point in being bothered by the water soaking her clothes so Tissaia allows the gesture and brings her other arm to frame Yennefer’s body, until the left hand is under her chin, tilting her head.

“Fuck, Tissaia,” Yennefer moans when a warm tongue trails lavishly along the column of her throat. She’d expected Tissaia to refuse her and disappear out of the cell to leave her to bathe on her own, and is certainly surprised to see that the woman has instead decided to meet her demand. Fingertips brush against her nipple and she has to bite her lower lip to hold back yet another moan. She feels weak, too weak to do anything but let Tissaia hold her and touch her. The pain from earlier is forgotten as Tissaia’s deft hand ventures lower and lower still until it reaches between her legs. “Is that what you want, Yennefer,” Tissaia says in her ear; her husky tone betraying how aroused she is. Yennefer shivers. “Yes, mistress.”

That does the trick. Tissaia applies pressure between her thighs and relishes in the loud moan the gesture alone gets her. The water is not ideal, hindering her movements, but Yennefer doesn’t seem to mind judging by the way her mouth falls open and her eyes are screwed shut. Tissaia’s left hand rakes down the length of Yennefer’s throat, and she lets it fall into the water to squeeze a breast left unattended until now. “More, please.” Yennefer already sounds breathless and Tissaia’s barely done anything. With two fingers, she starts rubbing around Yennefer’s clit and her teeth find the damp skin of a shoulder. She wants to mark Yennefer. It’s primal and not something she’s often done in her past, wanting to leave a trace on a lover. But this is different— _Yennefer_ is different. Tissaia wants her, craves her. She bites down and Yennefer gasps, her hands finding and gripping the edge of the tub. “Fuck,” the brunette whimpers when Tissaia refuses to let go of her bruised flesh and instead moves the hand between her legs faster and in smaller circles until Yennefer’s insides start clenching. Unwilling to draw blood, Tissaia soothes the bite mark with her tongue, peppering kisses all over heated skin, all the while caressing Yennefer’s upper body with the hand that is not currently working her up to orgasm.

There’s water sloshing around and a mess everywhere in the cell, which would normally be oh so irritating, but all Tissaia sees is the pleasure etched across Yennefer’s delicate features. The woman is beauty itself. “I’ve got you, Yennefer.” She knows her words can be interpreted in more than one way. She means them in every sense. Yennefer replies with something that sounds like “yes” but ends in a moan and Tissaia kisses her temple. “Be a good girl now,” she demands, and she needn’t elaborate. Yennefer’s body jerks in her arms, against her hands, and then all the tension in her tendons and muscles is released, and she’s limp in the water. Tissaia withdraws her hands to a safer spot, on Yennefer’s shoulders, kneading the flesh there. Yennefer sighs heavily then turns her head to meet Tissaia’s gaze.

“I’m going to need help getting out of this tub. I can barely feel my legs.” Her speech is slightly slurred, as if she’s been drinking, and it’s flattering to think that Tissaia’s the one who caused this. Tissaia offers a hand that Yennefer takes, and she pulls her up until Yennefer is standing in the water, towering over Tissaia who’s struggling to keep her eyes anywhere above her chest. She’s aware that Yennefer finds this funny, that she enjoys making her uncomfortable. Of course it works, even now, after all that they’ve been through. It takes a while for Yennefer to dry herself off but she manages, and then she finds herself in new, clean clothes, courtesy of Tissaia. “Hm. I suppose this will do,” she comments, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone. The outfit reminds her too much of her old teenage self, back when she was a student here.

“Don’t pout,” Tissaia scolds her. “Get into bed. You need to sleep.” By now Tissaia’s figured out that giving Yennefer orders is something that grounds her, that her normally rebellious self is too tainted by the darkness and that Yennefer knows it’s better for her sake if she complies. So she decides that maybe ordering her around isn’t too bad. Especially when Yennefer submits to her and seems to enjoy that very much. Right now, the dark mage settles under the thin blanket. With a flicker of her hand, Tissaia has the unnatural brightness of the candles dim to a soft, orange glow, and she sits down on the bed, looking at Yennefer affectionately.

“Stay with me tonight,” Yennefer pleads with her. She doesn’t want to be alone, not after what happened earlier. She remembers the pain all too vividly and is in no rush to experience it again. Tissaia guiding her through it had been a blessing. But Yennefer knows, from the look in her eyes, what Tissaia is going to say. “I can’t. I have obligations, Yennefer. People would notice if I was not in my bedchambers. You must rest.” Her excuse is met with a long-suffering sigh. Yennefer looks away, bothered, and something in Tissaia breaks. She’s tired of letting Yennefer down. “I… I suppose I can stay until you fall asleep,” she says hesitantly. The smile that creeps on Yennefer’s face makes Tissaia feels like she’s been manipulated but she doesn’t care. It’s worth it.

Yennefer turns her back on her and then extends a hand behind her. “Spoon me. I’ll fall asleep faster.” Of all the things Tissaia had thought Yennefer to be, being the little spoon in bed was _not_ one of them. She has to suppress a laugh, and she takes Yennefer’s hand, settling down beside her and letting her pull her so close that her front is pressed against Yennefer’s back. “Can I ask you something,” Tissaia says quietly, her breath ghosting over Yennefer’s neck. There’s a beat before Yennefer answers in the affirmative.

The question doesn’t come. Yennefer waits for it, and she can tell by the way Tissaia’s hand fidgets against her stomach that her companion somehow struggles to voice it. She wants to probe, she’s never been the patient type, but there’s no rushing Tissaia or she’ll clam up. “I’m… well, I’m not sure how to…” Yennefer turns to face her and tucks her left arm under her head. She hopes to convey softness with her eyes as they meet Tissaia’s. “Just ask,” she urges her kindly.

“I’ve been thinking about what is going on between us. I suppose I’m merely wondering what it means to you, what… what your thoughts are on… well, whatever this is.” She looks vulnerable in a way that Yennefer’s never seen before, not even when she’d had her blades pressed against Tissaia’s throat. Part of her wants to hurt Tissaia, to spit venomous words in her face, to mock her until she cries or slaps Yennefer. The other part wants to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her it all means something. Yennefer is torn. Which one is the real her and how can she know for sure? Tissaia is expecting an answer but there’s not one she can give. She settles for bringing her fingers to Tissaia’s cheek and stroking it softly. Blue eyes flutter shut for a second, but then Tissaia’s hand grabs Yennefer’s and presses her lips to it briefly before settling it back between them. “Use your words, Yennefer. Please.”

“I don’t know, Tissaia. All of this is so confusing and the little I remember before joining Nilfgaard was not… positive.” It’s frustrating, and perplexing to not know. She’s fairly sure the desire was always there but more than that? How is she supposed to figure that out? Tissaia seems resigned and there’s a tinge of sadness that Yennefer can feel emanating from her. She snuggles closer until her forehead touches Tissaia’s. “I feel good when I’m with you, like right now,” she continues. What else can she say? Tissaia remains quiet but her eyes bore into Yennefer’s with something akin to doubt and wonder in them. Yennefer has to resist the urge to look away.

“I feel good, too,” Tissaia confides in a whisper. This time, she’s the one who brings a hand to Yennefer’s face, tracing her jaw with a finger. “Sleep, darling.” The caresses on her skin don’t stop, even after Yennefer closes her eyes. The ghost of a kiss on the tip of her nose, and she can feel herself smile as sleep takes a hold of her.

When she wakes up, the sun is shining outside and the side of the bed where Tissaia had lain is cold to the touch.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am looking at... let's say, 3 or 4 more chapters? Not sure yet, as they're not written.

The next four days are excruciating. Tissaia doesn’t exactly ignore Yennefer, but she refuses any and all physical touch that Yennefer tries to initiate and keeps her distance. Yennefer has two more of those head-splitting attacks and she’s angry enough at not being able to control her own damn self that she punches the wall hard enough to break her hand. When Tissaia stops by on the fourth day and finds her cradling a bruised hand, she hurriedly sets the tray of food down on the table and makes her way to Yennefer.

“What happened,” she asks, concerned, as she takes in the state of Yennefer’s hand.

“Punched a wall, maybe,” Yennefer explains with a shrug.

“What?!”

Tissaia glares at her but it does nothing to make Yennefer feel sheepish or guilty. She simply doesn’t care. The pain is nowhere near as intense as the one she gets during the random times when the darkness tries to overtake her. And since Tissaia seems to have decided they’re no longer going to be intimate and close to each other, then she doesn’t need to share her thoughts with her. In fact, she retracts her hand when the mage tries to heal her. “Don’t. I’ll just go and break it again.” At that, Tissaia bristles and grabs Yennefer’s chin harshly to force her to meet her eyes. “What is going on with you?”

Yennefer scoffs and bats her hand away. “With me? You’re the one who’s gone all cold on me! You touch me, tell me I make you feel good, and then you ignore me and refuse the simplest touch!” Tissaia’s mouth opens, then closes and she looks away. “That’s right, don’t explain yourself,” Yennefer continues sarcastically. She moves away from Tissaia, unable to stand their close proximity when she knows the woman doesn’t welcome her touch anymore. “Triss will be here soon,” Tissaia finally says, her voice considerably softer. Yennefer lets out a bitter laugh. Leave it to Tissaia to completely ignore their argument and try to sweep it under the rug. “Yes, well, the sooner she’s here the sooner I’ll be out of your hair.” Behind her, she hears Tissaia sigh. Then, she feels a hand on her shoulder and despite herself, Yennefer turns around to face the Rectoress once more.

“What now?” She can’t stand to look at Tissaia when her gaze is soft and earnest. She wants to find the words to hurt her, like Tissaia’s hurting her by putting up walls and acting as if she hadn’t been tongue-deep in Yennefer only days before. Of course, when Tissaia’s eyes show so much worry it’s hard to stay mad at her. When she takes Yennefer’s hand in hers, carefully so as to not cause pain, Yennefer lets her. She watches as Tissaia murmurs incantations, cradling her hand as if it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held. She wants to kiss her so badly that it hurts more than her broken bones.

“I don’t want you to go,” Tissaia admits after she finishes her spell and Yennefer’s hand is as good as new. She’s still holding it in her own, and doesn’t seem to want to let go. Her behavior is beyond confusing for Yennefer. “Why won’t you let me touch you,” she asks bluntly, because she’s tired of non-answers and she’s tired of chasing after Tissaia, and if she has to lose her for whatever reason then she wants to know.

“Yennefer… It’s not _wise_ for us to… to continue what we were doing. I should never have started… _any_ of it.” Tissaia looks at the floor. She’s struggled with the guilt for weeks now, trying to scale back has been damn near impossible because Yennefer has been trying over and over to come close—ever closer—and she feels so much for her, but she knows it’s for the best. What’ll happen when Yennefer is cured and she inevitably decides to leave? Tissaia wouldn’t be able to handle it, no. Yennefer would recover in no time, all beauty and strength, and she’d go on with her existence while Tissaia would wallow in the misery of loving her from afar. Yennefer is all lust where Tissaia is consumed by her feelings for her. They had invaded her heart swiftly, taken up residence in her very soul, and there would be no getting rid of them. Aiming for a clean break is the only plan she came up with, but of course that doesn’t take into account how bull-headed Yennefer can be.

The younger mage straightens up and, like this, she’s so much taller than Tissaia. She looks down at her, disdainfully, and takes a step closer, into Tissaia’s space. Tissaia lets go of her hand and steps back instinctively but Yennefer follows. “Stop,” Tissaia orders, but her voice wavers. Yennefer doesn’t obey, not this time. She takes another step forward; Tissaia, another one back. “Yennefer, _stop_.”

Her lower back hits the table and she’s well and truly cornered. They’re standing toe-to-toe now, and Tissaia has no other choice but to either look up at Yennefer or to stare at her chest. Their eyes meet. She finds that she can’t read Yennefer’s serious face for the first time ever. It’s a bit scary. Tissaia’s heart beats so loud that she wouldn’t be surprised if Yennefer could hear it. Yennefer raises a hand and presses against Tissaia’s stomach, right under her breasts and she inhales sharply. “Don’t,” she warns, desperate for some distance. It appears, however, that Yennefer is done listening.

“Is it only you who has a right to take and take as you please? What about when I want you? Why can’t I have you as you have me?” Yennefer leans in ever so slightly and she sees the way Tissaia gulps and clenches her jaw, still withholding from her. She knows if the woman truly didn’t want her so close she’d just blast magic her way and send her flying back. Since she isn’t doing that, Yennefer is willing to take her chances. “You know what kept me going these past few months? The thought of you. Either strangling you to death, or taking you up against a wall.” Tissaia tries to move away at that, but Yennefer’s newly healed hand keeps her firmly in place. “I don’t want to do the former anymore, not most of the time at least. But I can’t stop wanting the latter. I _need_ you, Tissaia.”

Tissaia shakes her head at that. She looks tired, Yennefer notices. “You only say this because of the darkness inside of you. When it is gone, you’re going to realize that all of this was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened. I can’t—I can’t let it happen. It’s not good for you, or for me.”

A lifetime ago, Tissaia might have known what was good for Yennefer. That had stopped being true the moment she’d been sent to Nilfgaard. “Why are you doing this? I know you want me, as much as I want you. Why would you pretend to know what will happen once I take the cure? None of us know. What’s good for me?” Her free hand finds Tissaia’s thigh and slides upward. “This,” Yennefer finishes, whispering in Tissaia’s ear. As predicted, Tissaia makes no move to free herself, she simply turns her head to the side to avoid Yennefer’s eyes, which gives the latter the perfect opportunity to let her lips trail across the exposed neck.

Tissaia is paralyzed. Her brain fried the moment Yennefer revealed she’d thought about, well, her against a wall. She feels Yennefer’s hand, warm on her thigh despite the thick fabric of her dress, and then her soft lips are on the tendons of her neck, gentle, and Tissaia wants to scream. It’s been four days since she’s last touched Yennefer and she _craves_ her. She can’t say no to her, she’s always been too weak when it comes to Yennefer. “Please don’t,” she tries one last time, already knowing how futile the attempt is.

Both of Yennefer’s hands are now on her waist and her tongue has replaced her lips on Tissaia’s skin. “Let me have this,” Yennefer says, her tone almost pleading. “It’s all I have in here.” Tissaia wants to tell her that this is why they should not, why it’s a bad idea. Instead, she lets herself be used as a distraction from the boredom Yennefer feels. She lets herself be hoisted up on the table, lets her legs wrap around Yennefer’s, lets her chin be tilted up so Yennefer can kiss her. And kiss her she does, with fervor. Tissaia lasts all of two seconds before she gives in and kisses back with the same intensity. Yennefer is warm and that warmth encompasses Tissaia until she feels feverish and her hands grab at the collar of the shirt Yennefer is wearing to pull her closer. Yennefer allows it for a few seconds and then pushes Tissaia further back onto the table. Behind her, Tissaia hears a clatter on the floor and knows the tray of food just met its demise. She doesn’t care. Yennefer’s hands are now beneath her skirt, clawing at the skin there, possessively, with the intent to leave a mark.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia begins. Her lover grunts against her neck, too preoccupied with the love-bite she’s in the process of making to acknowledge Tissaia. Not that it matters, because Tissaia doesn’t even know where she was going with this. One brusque pull and Yennefer’s got her sitting at the very edge of the table which forces her to lean back on her elbows as the pulsating point between her legs makes contact with Yennefer’s crotch. “Oh,” Tissaia gasps. Yennefer is rough in her gestures, a starved woman taking her fill, and Tissaia can feel the desperation and anger coming off of her. She deserves it, she knows that. She’s treated Yennefer badly and if the punishment is this—a broken heart on the way—then she must accept it. Before she knows it, Yennefer has all but ripped the dress off of her and Tissaia is bare under her heated gaze. She doesn’t scold, doesn’t protest. She loves the hunger she sees in purple eyes.

She’s missed this, Yennefer realizes. It’s only been four days since she fell asleep under Tissaia’s caress, four days of being deprived of her touch, incomprehensibly. It was withdrawal she’d felt, she understands that now. Touching Tissaia is like coming up for air after coming close to drowning. Her mouth sucks on tender flesh, greedily, and Tissaia moans, grinding against her. Yennefer slides her arms under Tissaia’s shoulders to make her sit up on the table. Like this, they’re roughly the same height and their eyes meet. The dress she’s ripped off is discarded quickly, spared no glance as Yennefer is unwilling to look away from steel blue eyes darkened by a desire she knows is reflected in her own gaze. Naked and hers to take, Tissaia is perfect. Her legs are still wrapped around Yennefer’s slender frame and it makes it easier for Yennefer to pick her up. Tissaia lets out an uncharacteristic squeal in surprise, definitely not expecting the move. But Yennefer is strong, she’s had nothing but time to work on her upper body strength in this cell. Tissaia weighs nothing in her arms and she kisses her upper chest as she brings her to the bed. Tissaia’s hands, that have wrapped around her neck, don’t let go when Yennefer settles her on the mattress, a bit less gently than intended.

Pulled down on top of a very aroused Tissaia, Yennefer finally smiles. What is Tissaia afraid of, really? As if she’ll ever get enough of having her in her arms. Darkness or no darkness inside of her, Yennefer wants this. “Tell me you need me,” she demands. Tissaia looks annoyed and it makes her chuckles before she presses a kiss to her lips, and whispers again “tell me.”

Tissaia surges forward to crash their lips together instead, but Yennefer isn’t giving in. She keeps still until Tissaia sighs and falls back onto the bed, defeated. “I need you,” she admits begrudgingly, even though her whole body is so obviously yearning for Yennefer. “Again,” Yennefer orders before letting a hand trail south. Tissaia, past the point of caring now, obliges her. “I need you, Yennefer.” It sounds a lot more honest.

There’s a brief pause during which Yennefer considers her options. She could do this hard and fast, the anger she feels at having been ignored for days is fuel enough for that. Or she could take her time and revenge on Tissaia, by making her beg for it. She smirks.

“I hope you didn’t have anywhere to be tonight.”

__

Much, much later that night, Tissaia makes her way back to her chambers in a newly-conjured dress, and she is beyond thankful that there’s no one in the hallways at this hour to notice the strange way she walks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be the longest chapter to date. Mmh. And if my calculations are right, there should be two chapters left. Or three. I'm bad at math.

Stregobor is suspicious of her. Tissaia notices the way his eyes seem to pause on her much more often these days, and as much as she despises the man, she knows he’s not all that oblivious to what goes on around him. She spends an entire council meeting worrying that perhaps Yennefer left a mark on her that she didn’t see in the mirror this morning, but when she checks later, there’s nothing. Tissaia resolves to be more careful. Swept in this forbidden affair, she’s gotten too negligent. If it became known that Yennefer of Vengerberg, the traitor, had been locked in the dungeons for months, the council would have both of their heads. Triss should be here soon, and with her, the key to Yennefer’s freedom—hopefully. Tissaia has been alive too long to let anxiety settle in her chest but she still feels it, simmering deep down. Anxiety at the thought of the cure not working, at the thought of Yennefer leaving and never coming back.

Triss made contact again, two days ago now. She and Istredd are still a day away but should be arriving in the early evening, tomorrow. Tissaia told Yennefer and watched as her face brightened. For her sake, she hopes the cure works. There’s no telling what Yennefer will do or how she’ll react if it doesn’t. Tissaia knows she ought to be prepared for the eventuality. She spends the day thinking about it.

__

Tonight is potentially their last night together, Tissaia tells Yennefer once she stands in front of her later that day. She expects Yennefer to make a sassy comment and is met with seriousness instead. Yennefer brings her hands up to cradle Tissaia’s face and she leans in to place a chaste kiss on her lips. The softness takes her by surprise. “No matter what happens,” Yennefer says, “I won’t forget that you tried to help. Even after everything that I did.”

Everything that she did. They’ve skirted around that, never fully able to talk about it openly. Dimeritium would have killed a lesser mage. They both know it. Yennefer had chosen to use it against her, deliberately, to make it hurt. Fire in her veins. It had taken Tissaia months to rid herself of the blueish powder.

Everything that Yennefer did, including killing mages and soldiers defending Sodden. Tissaia hasn’t allowed herself to reflect on it. Has she forgiven Yennefer? Would that mean betraying her own side? Is there anything to forgive, knowing that Yennefer had done all of this not of her own volition but as a result of being poisoned and manipulated?

“Stop thinking,” Yennefer murmurs, her nose brushing against Tissaia’s. “No thinking tonight, alright?” Tissaia hums in agreement but it’s not likely that her brain will shut off that easily. Knowing this could very well be the last time she can touch Yennefer, the last time their limbs entwine in bed… she swallows thickly. Living in the moment has always been something she struggles to do. Somehow it feels like the very first time with a new lover. Butterflies in the pit of her stomach and still, apprehension and what she believes to be anxiety. She hasn’t felt it in such a long time.

Yennefer figures she’ll need to take the lead tonight given that Tissaia seems to be in a rather dazed state. The woman looks up at her, lips slightly parted, as if she doesn’t know what to do, even though they’ve been together every night since Yennefer reclaimed her right to touch and be touched. She doesn’t kiss Tissaia again, not right away, preferring instead to untie the laces of her dress. Tissaia’s hands find purchase on Yennefer’s hips, hesitant, and Yennefer would find that endearing if it were any other night but tonight she wants passion and she wants bruises on her skin for her to stare at tomorrow. A bit more hastily, she finishes untying the laces and pushes the dress off of Tissaia’s shoulders. “Beautiful,” she whispers before quickly bringing her mouth to the newly exposed collarbone. Tissaia’s grip becomes firmer. Yennefer is loath to remove the hands on her but she needs the dress to fall to Tissaia’s feet and that can’t happen if it won’t slide off of her. Once that is done, she gathers the woman in a tight embrace that she returns.

There are many things Tissaia wants to say, burrowed in Yennefer’s arms, but her words die in her throat and all she can do is press her lips against the warm skin at the junction between shoulder and neck. Naked against the rough fabric of Yennefer’s dress, she shivers. Oh how she wishes the night would never end! Yennefer smells like soap and Tissaia wants to bury her face in her hair and sleep, curled against her, wishing time to stop. But Yennefer’s hands move with purpose on her skin and she moans when they start kneading the flesh of her backside. Yennefer is a woman of many talents, but certainly none of them better than her talent for arousing so many feelings in Tissaia. The desire flares through her and suddenly it’s as if she is startled awake. Tissaia summons magic to rid Yennefer of her clothing, much to her delight. Naked flesh against naked flesh, they hum in unison.

“Fuck,” Yennefer whispers, forehead touching Tissaia’s. She doesn’t want to think about tomorrow and what awaits her. She doesn’t know which scares her more: the possibility of being rid of the darkness and of whatever it is she feels for Tissaia or the cure not working and being confined here indefinitely, never knowing if the desire for the other woman that burns deep within her is hers or not. But for now, Tissaia seems to have found herself again and Yennefer cannot resist pulling her to the bed. She sits on it and invites Tissaia to fall into her, straddling her hips. The position is intimate, with Tissaia for once taller than Yennefer and looking into her eyes as if she can see right into her soul. Yennefer feels the dull throbbing between her legs becoming more pronounced as Tissaia takes her lower lip between her teeth and tugs on it lightly. Her hands trail up and down Tissaia’s back, committing the softness of her skin to memory. Just in case. Tissaia sighs against her mouth; the heaviness of the moment certainly not lost on her. Yennefer wonders what she’s thinking.

As if reading her mind, Tissaia cups her face and offers a feeble smile. “How are you feeling,” she asks. Yennefer considers lying and decides against it. Not tonight. “Anxious. You’re making it hard for me to think properly. Especially like this,” she finishes, nuzzling Tissaia’s neck. She caresses a breast, marvels at the way it stands proudly to attention in the wake of her fingers. Tissaia’s hands move to her hair and Yennefer closes her eyes. She’s always enjoyed that—the way Tissaia seems unable to keep away from her dark mane. “Promise me,” Tissaia begins, bringing Yennefer’s attention back to her, “that you won’t run away after this is over.” So close to her, Yennefer feels light-headed. There’s something regal about Tissaia, the way she hold herself, even when perched on Yennefer’s thighs, naked… Yennefer would unconditionally give herself to Tissaia, give her the world if only to hold her a second longer. “I promise.” When Tissaia’s lips ghost over hers, she adds quickly, “mistress.” There’s the briefest pause before Tissaia smirks and crashes her mouth onto Yennefer’s.

__

Tissaia breaks her own rule that night. Long after they’ve given each other everything that they have, long after she’s swallowed the last of Yennefer’s moans, long after her hunger for the other woman has been satiated, she holds Yennefer close to her and doesn’t let go. She stays. The air smells of them, and the atmosphere is heavy with the words neither of them dare say. Yennefer is uncharacteristically quiet; Tissaia feels her breathing against her throat and it tickles. She wonders if she’s fallen asleep but then Yennefer’s fingers skim over the heated skin of her stomach so she knows her lover is awake. Perhaps unable to succumb to sleep, too anxious for the day to come. Yennefer shifts and presses her lips to Tissaia’s neck. The mere touch is electrifying and it will never cease to amaze her how such a small act can have such power over her. Yennefer has awakened something in her that Tissaia had thought long dead. How could she ever go back to the way things were before, she thinks. There is no way.

“Stop that,” Yennefer mumbles against her skin.

“Hmm?”

“Thinking so hard. I can almost hear your thoughts despite the magic shield.”

“I…”

She trails off, and Yennefer shifts again, this time holding herself up on her elbows so she can look Tissaia in the eye. “You’re scared.” It’s not a question. In the darkness of the cell, only broken by the moonlight streaming through the window, Yennefer sees the affirmative nod Tissaia gives her. She doesn’t ask what scares her. She imagines the answer to be similar to her own state of mind. She wraps a leg around Tissaia’s, watches her throat bob up and down as she no doubt feels the stickiness between Yennefer’s thighs. “You’re worried,” she says again, in the same rhetorical way. “I am,” Tissaia confesses. “Everything that’s happened between us, Yennefer… you have to know I—I should have never let it go this far.” Yennefer is quick to shake her head and place a finger on Tissaia’s lips to silence her. “Hush. Don’t say that. I _know_ you feel guilty and it’s not necessary. I… I may not be able to sort out my feelings for you but I am sure of one thing and that is that I’ve always wondered what you look like naked.” She can’t if Tissaia sees her joking smile, but at least it makes her chuckle and Yennefer takes that as a victory. “I’m serious,” she continues. “Those high collars, long dresses… teenage me was so frustrated with you and the only way I could ever manage to get rid of the feeling was by imagining you out of them. I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Tissaia tries to hold back a sigh and fails. A hand scratches lightly under Yennefer’s chin and she feels overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, but she resists. They need to have this conversation. “In Rinde…”

“I would have taken you right there if you hadn’t blasted me away,” Yennefer interrupts. “And yes, the poison in my veins amplified my boldness, but it surely didn’t create the desire out of nothing, Tissaia.” Her fingers delicately trail a path in the valley between Tissaia’s breasts and Yennefer hums with relish. “I’m sure I’ll still want this even without the darkness.” A kiss to a breast makes goosebumps appear on Tissaia’s entire body. Tissaia’s lower lip trembles. “Kiss me,” she demands in a whisper, because the practically non-existent distance between them is too much already. Conversation be damned; there’ll be more time to talk after they rid Yennefer of the poisonous black magic. Her lover wastes no time in fusing their lips together, preventing Tissaia from saying anything else anyway.

__

Yennefer opens her eyes when the sun hits her square in the face. She blinks against the harsh light of mid-morning and sits up in surprise when she finds Tissaia still in bed with her, eyes wide open and staring at her. “Wh—what are you still doing here?”

“Well, good morning to you, too, Yennefer.” She looks so relaxed, with an arm bent at the elbow tucked beneath her pillow. The swell of her breasts is visible under the blanket and Yennefer gulps before she rubs at her eyes with a hand. “Morning,” she says, her voice rough from sleep. She clears her throat and focuses her attention on her companion once more. “I didn’t expect you to stay.”

Tissaia stirs and sits up, and Yennefer shamelessly stares at her chest and at the love bites on her neck. “I did go up and attend to my duties, earlier. And then I pretended to be feeling a bit under the weather, and I came back here. You were snoring,” Tissaia explains, faking reproach in her tone. She makes no move to hide her body from Yennefer’s lusty gaze. “How are you feeling?”

“I… I can feel it floating in me. The darkness. It wants…” She trails off, finally meeting Tissaia’s eyes. “It wants you. It’s—I’m struggling. Seeing you like that,” she motions towards Tissaia’s state of undress, “gets me _and_ the darkness going, apparently.” She licks her lips and Tissaia finally grabs the blanket to cover herself. “Perhaps I should get dressed then,” the Rectoress says as she moves away from the bed. Yennefer’s hand shoots out to grab the blanket and Tissaia, not expecting the gesture, finds herself standing naked next to the unmade bed. Yennefer pounces on her in a flash. Her arms wrap around Tissaia’s waist and she holds her firmly against her, forehead against the neatly tied bun she’d no doubt taken great care to make earlier that day.

“Settle down, Yennefer,” Tissaia warns, her hands resting on the brunette’s arms. “Do you know how good you smell,” Yennefer growls in her ear. She’s possibly not having the best handle on the darkness but in her defense, she’s been awake for three minutes and Tissaia being in bed with her, _naked_ , had caught her off-guard. “Control yourself.” Tissaia’s voice is stern, and she remains still, but her body is tense and ready to send Yennefer flying across the cell should she lose control.

But Yennefer has been living with the poison flowing through her for years and she’s always been a creature of wants and needs. Chaos. She’s learned to master it and to let it come and go. The poison makes it trickier, but she knows now. She knows. And she can stand on that cliff without falling over the edge, even though the voice inside her head is seething, even if the pain rips through her like lightning. She keeps her arms around Tissaia, holding tight, and kisses her shoulder. “Control myself like you asked me to last night,” she teases. There’s a faint blush that appears on Tissaia’s cheeks and Yennefer grins as she nuzzles her ear. When no reply comes, she continues. “You know what the poison is whispering to me right now?”

Tissaia scoffs. “Let me guess. It wants you to squeeze so hard that my entrails fall out of my body.” Surprised, Yennefer lets out a bark of laughter. Her embrace loosens slightly but Tissaia makes no attempt to free herself. The show of trust is not lost on Yennefer. “Hm, no. It’s telling me to throw you onto the bed and take you as I wish.” Her tongue trails a wet path on Tissaia’s neck and the Rectoress can’t suppress a moan. Tissaia hates the way her body betrays her. “The poison seems to have made you forget you place,” she manages to say, struggling to hide the desire in her tone. It’s futile, of course, because Yennefer already knows the effect she has on her. At last, Yennefer lets go and allows Tissaia to face her. “Will you punish me for forgetting my place, mistress?” Oh, how Tissaia wants to wipe the smug grin off of her face. Yennefer might have handed her the reins, but she’s still in control of whatever this is. Tissaia clicks her tongue, looks her up and down, and pushes her back onto the bed. Yennefer falls backwards with a satisfied chuckle that turns into a pout when she realizes Tissaia is not going to join her.

“Maybe some other time,” Tissaia tells her as she finds her dress, abandoned on the table earlier. “But I have much to do before Triss arrives this evening. I’m afraid you’ll have to entertain yourself.” She doesn’t spare Yennefer a glance but she can practically hear the salacious smile at her choice of words.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, THIS is the longest chapter. Took me forever to get it out, and I'm not satisfied with it but ehhh it happens sometimes. Gotta keep posting anyway!
> 
> Next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you think of this one!

Tissaia paces anxiously in her office. The sun is low on the horizon and Triss hasn’t contacted her yet, but she should be on Thanedd by now. She thinks of Yennefer, down in her cell, wonders how she’s holding up. It wouldn’t take long to check on her but at this hour, the school is bustling with students and mages, and Stregobor could cross her path which she absolutely doesn’t want. She sighs and finally decides to sit behind her desk only to shoot right up as she feels Triss poking around in her mind.

_Triss?_   
  


There’s a brief pause, then:

_I’m at the gate. I left Istredd behind so my visit wouldn’t be suspicious._

Tissaia is out of her office in a flash, heading towards the entrance to greet Triss. The less people see her, the better. She doesn’t want anyone to question her presence here. Finally, she catches sight of unruly brown curls, and Tissaia offers her former student a tight-lipped smile.

“Triss, it’s good to see you.” She takes note of the heavy-looking bag on Triss’s shoulder and wastes no time in guiding the woman back to her office, ignoring the curious looks of young students heading towards the dining hall. They don’t speak on their way there, and it’s only once the door is safely locked behind them that Tissaia allows herself to exhale deeply.

“Please, sit. You must be tired,” she offers, gesturing toward the chair close to her desk. Triss obeys politely and smiles gratefully when Tissaia hands her a glass of cold, amber liquid a minute later. “I trust you had safe travels?”

“For the most part,” Triss says with a half-smile. “Istredd proved to be useful in more than one way.” At the concerned look Tissaia gives her, Triss is quick to provide reassurance. “I wasn’t at any risk, but it’s better to travel with a man these days. Less suspicious. People are wary of mages and other magic wielders ever since…” She doesn’t finish her sentence—doesn’t need to. Tissaia knows very well what event she’s referring to. Tissaia nods her understanding and motions towards the bag at Triss’s feet. “What’s in this?”

“Herbs and grimoires. Everything I need to concoct the potion that Yennefer should take. Would you prefer me to start now?” Triss seems exhausted and despite her putting on a brave face, Tissaia sees through it. “Perhaps I could get started with it while you rest. You can take over once you wake up.” The relief is evident on Triss’s delicate features. Tissaia walks over to her and picks up the bag from the floor to set it on her desk. “Right, then. Show me what’s all this, and I’ll have a room set up for you with a bath right after.”

__

In all her centuries, Tissaia has never seen an incantation like the one written in the dusty old grimoire Triss brought with her. It’s in Elder—a language she knows, fortunately—and requires ingredients that she’d never thought of mixing together. Some of them are dangerous to acquire and she resists the urge to ask Triss how she got her hands on them. It doesn’t matter now. What’s important is to prepare the potion Yennefer will have to take correctly. Triss is quickly dismissed after everything is laid out on Tissaia’s desk. As good as she is, Triss is still a young mage compared to Tissaia’s vast experience. She doesn’t need guidance to get started on the potion.

Left alone in her office, Tissaia changes into a more suitable attire and opens a window slightly. She knows how fumes can get. With the amount of ingredients on her desk, she’s very aware of the acute risk she’s taking by doing this in here. The whole thing could end up in disaster and her room entirely burned or destroyed any other way. But, somewhere down below, Yennefer is waiting for her. She has no time to waste, and no wish for anyone to inquire why she’s in the potion room so she stays in her closed quarters. It will have to do.

__

It is well into the night when Triss joins her, knocking softly on the door. Tissaia is in the midst of pouring drops of rosemary oil in the brewing concoction when she feels her presence behind the door. A flick of her hand and the door unlocks, granting Triss entrance. “You’ve made quite the progress,” Triss comments as she approaches the desk carefully. Tissaia nods, too focused on her task to give her a verbal reply. “I can take over if you need.” Her arms ache and there’s perspiration showing on her forehead and temples, but Tissaia feels hesitant to relish control of the preparation, even if she knows Triss is perfectly capable of making it. As if sensing that, her former student places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Tissaia, you need to rest if you want to be able to read the incantation later while Yennefer drinks the potion.”

At that, Tissaia sighs softly and puts the vial of oil back on the table. She moves away begrudgingly, allowing Triss to take her place. “I will… rest, in the armchair over there. Should you need me…” Triss gives her a look, and Tissaia chuckles. How grown up and confident she has become. She settles as comfortably as she can in the armchair closest to her bookshelves. It’s not ideal, but for a nap it will do. She drifts off to sleep slowly, lulled by the gurgling of ingredients boiling in the small cauldron. Her thoughts are with Yennefer, and she hopes her—she hopes _Yennefer_ —has managed to find sleep too. From what Tissaia’s read of the incantation, she knows there’s bound to be pain.

__

She awakes with a start, purple eyes opening at once. Yennefer sits up in bed, disoriented. Her mouth is dry and she feels dizzy for a minute before sleep loses its grasp on her entirely. She exhales deeply, settles back down. It’s still dark outside but Yennefer knows that Triss Merigold must be within the walls of Aretuza. She imagines Tissaia, probably restless and pacing around. In her mind, simmering, always ready to take over, Yennefer feels the darkness. What is she like, without it? It seems like it’s always been a part of her. She can try to think back to how she was before but everything is so distant, and the memories are few and fleeting.

Losing the darkness will mean being stripped bare, and having to reconstruct herself. Yennefer isn’t one to be afraid of anything, but perhaps this ought to scare her. A blank slate means endless possibilities but also dealing with the consequences of her actions as Nilfgaard’s mage. She watches her hands in the dimly lit cell, summons the little magic she can under all of those shields. The orange glow at her fingertips is both reassuring and menacing. What she can do with it, Yennefer knows it all too well. Destruction and chaos. The glow fades into nothing and she sighs. It’ll be a few more hours before Tissaia and Triss come to find her. She might as well try and go back to sleep.

__

It’s the sound of Tissaia’s heels clicking on the floor that wakes her again a few hours later. Alert at once, Yennefer is on her feet by the time the door to the cell opens to reveal Tissaia in a long, green dress, and behind her Triss Merigold, in a dress that seems reddish in the pale light of dawn. Yennefer has never seen her in the flesh before, but she’s heard of her. She knows Triss was at Sodden and was badly hurt. It shows, right at the collar of her dress, some scar tissue that she identifies as a burn scar immediately. Their eyes meet, before anyone can even speak, and she reads no judgement in her gentle gaze, only curiosity that she imagines is reflected in her own.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia breathes, as she sets a heavy-looking book on the table, “this is Triss.” Said woman has a vial in her hands that she sets down next to the grimoire. Then she turns to Yennefer and nods. “Hello Yennefer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Her voice is as soft as her eyes and it takes Yennefer aback. How can there be no resentment for her, given her actions at Sodden Hill? She clears her throat awkwardly and nods in return but remains wisely silent. What could she possibly say? _I hope not all bad?_

Tissaia seems agitated. She wipes her hands on her dress and looks around the room then stalks forward to where Yennefer is standing. “How are you feeling,” she asks her. Yennefer shrugs. “I’m ready, I suppose.” Yennefer’s eyes are still on Triss, who’s subtly taking in her surroundings, perhaps wondering how Yennefer survived months in this tiny cell. But if she knows Tissaia as well as Yennefer does, then she understands her ruthlessness and the decisions she makes. “It will be painful,” Triss says, her eyes finding Yennefer’s again. It’s said matter-of-factly and without emotion. Yennefer appreciates it. She doesn’t need anyone to sugarcoat it for her. Pain, she knows. She can handle a great deal of it. “I’m ready,” she repeats, more forcefully this time. She looks down at Tissaia who stands before her, and offers a quick, fake smile. “Well. Let’s do this, then,” Tissaia says tightly, turning back towards Triss and the table where the grimoire lays open. “I’ll start with strengthening the soundproof spell over the cell, I have a feeling it might be necessary.”

__

Tissaia’s voice seems distant, as if she’s underwater or behind closed doors. Yennefer tries to focus on it, to tether herself to it through the pain. She’s fairly sure she cracked a few teeth given how hard her jaw is clenched but she has yet to let out a scream. In fact, while the potion working its way through her body makes her feel like she is being skinned alive, she finds that it is no worse than the pain she’d gone through while Giltine had performed the ritual on her, fixing her deformities and taking from her what she’d never expected to desperately want back. She feels hands on her, imagines them to belong to Triss since Tissaia is holding the grimoire and reciting words Yennefer doesn’t understand. How long the whole thing lasts, she couldn’t tell. She stops being capable of forming coherent thoughts at some point, too engulfed in the boiling feeling that comes from deep within her, and finally she screams. She notices how Triss stumbles back, all but falling on her behind as she recoils from Yennefer, and then everything goes dark.

__

When she wakes, it is to hushed voices and concerned blue eyes staring down at her. Yennefer tries to focus on them but her vision is blurry and her head is killing her so she lets her heavy eyelids win this round and promptly falls back into slumber.

__

Tissaia doesn’t know what’s the most unnerving: the fact that Yennefer has been asleep for now close to eight hours—the sun is high in the sky—or Triss’s curious gaze following her every move as she tries to busy herself in the scrolls she brought down to the cell to work as she waits for Yennefer to wake up. She’d pretended a last-minute meeting outside of Aretuza to come down here, unable to attend to her daily occupations knowing Yennefer could come to at any moment. Triss had offered to keep an eye on her but it was unfathomable to Tissaia to not be by her—by _Yennefer’s_ side. Now she sits at the table, turned in such way that she can face the bed where Yennefer is fast asleep. Triss sits primly on the bed, monitors her patient’s pulse every now and then, and stares at Tissaia when the older woman can no longer sit still and starts pacing instead.

Finally, Yennefer stirs. Triss is all but shoved out of the way and Tissaia takes her place on the bed, hands already at Yennefer’s neck and forehead, gentle and soft. She does not care for the quiet understanding that dawns on Triss’s face. She doesn’t need to read pity or disgust in brown eyes.

“Yennefer,” she calls out, her voice barely audible.

“Mmh,” comes the muffled response.

One of Yennefer’s hands find hers and squeezes lightly in acknowledgement. Tissaia’s relief is immense. She closes her eyes briefly and sighs, the tension finally released from her body. But then Yennefer’s hand leaves hers and she holds it out towards Triss, motioning towards her. Confused, Tissaia tries again:

“Yennefer?”

“Triss,” she says, eyes not meeting Tissaia’s.

Confused and worried, Tissaia steps away for Triss to take her place and she can’t help the pang of hurt that rips through her when Yennefer asks Triss to lean in so she can talk directly in her ear. She wants to turn away but Triss’s eyes meet hers, a clear sign that whatever Yennefer is saying concerns her. She doesn’t like that. Triss nods, stands up, shares one last meaningful look with Yennefer and then she faces Tissaia, apologetic.

“Yennefer wants you to remove the shields and then leave.”

“I’m sorry, what? Yennefer? I—”

Triss puts up a hand and effectively interrupts her.

“She says she doesn’t feel the darkness right now but she doesn’t want to risk hurting you, and she needs her magic back to know for sure she is fine.”

Tissaia hates that even now, after everything they’ve shared, she still hesitates. Why would Yennefer simply not tell her that? Why ask Triss? It makes her question her trust in Yennefer and she hesitates long enough for Triss to take a step towards her, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Fine,” Tissaia snaps, silently berating herself for letting her irritation get the best of her. She exits the cell without looking at the women still in it and recites the words that will break the spells shielding the room. When the connection to Yennefer’s life is severed and the magic barriers fall, she walks away, making it all the way to the entrance of the dungeon before she stills. She waits, seconds ticking away, until she hears footsteps echoing against the stony walls of the dungeon, and then Tissaia turns around. Yennefer is standing outside of the cell and looking directly at her. From that distance Tissaia can’t read the expression on her face but the hair stand on the back of her neck, and she gulps. Something is wrong.

“How are you feeling,” she asks tentatively. She needn’t raise her voice; the echo carries quite well in here. Yennefer remains silent as she takes a step in her direction, then another. Tissaia can’t help but notice that Triss isn’t following. _Something is wrong_. Instinctively, her fingers curl in such a way that she’ll be able to deflect any magic spell coming her way. Yennefer, in a few long strides, stands before her but maintains a distance. Her eyes betray nothing.

“Yennefer, you’re scaring me. Talk to me,” Tissaia speaks again, gently but firmly. She tries to read Triss’s mind and finds that she can’t. “What did you do,” she whispers, knowing Yennefer can hear her. Purples eyes shine bright, Tissaia notices the difference between now and before. The darkness is gone, but Yennefer’s behavior indicates otherwise. “Triss,” she calls out, worried. No answer comes. Only Yennefer, staring at her, stepping closer, and Tissaia concedes and steps back. The door is too close and her back hits it all too soon. There is no escape from Yennefer.

“She’s taking a nap,” Yennefer finally says. “Thought we could have some… time alone.” Her tone is suggestive and dark, nothing like it should be, nothing like it has been the past few days. Tissaia desperately wants to know what’s going on inside her head. Before she can react, Yennefer mutters a few words and there are vines wrapping themselves around Tissaia’s wrists, pinning them behind her back. “What are you doing, Yennefer?” Tissaia is not scared, not _exactly_. She’s intrigued, apprehensive, but now that she can look into purple eyes, that she can feel Yennefer crackling with a magic that is not dark, she’s no longer scared. It’s the only reason she doesn’t undo the spell immediately. Like an animal prowling, Yennefer advances slowly, carefully, until she’s so close that her breath mingles with Tissaia.

Tissaia expects her to explain herself but Yennefer, of course, does not. Instead, she brings her lips to Tissaia’s and kisses her softly, chastely. Her mouth lingers above Tissaia’s, who dares not move an inch. She doesn’t understand what’s happening. When Yennefer kisses her again, roughly this time, she responds in kind because what else is she supposed to do? The vines around her wrists prevent her from wrapping her arms around Yennefer’s neck but there is no need for that, because Yennefer presses herself so hard against Tissaia that the latter fleetingly worries she’ll leave a dent in the door. When Yennefer bites on her lower lip, a loud moan escapes Tissaia. “You’re beautiful,” Yennefer whispers. “How could I have ever wanted to kill you?” Before Tissaia can reply, before she can ask about the restraints on her wrists, Yennefer attacks her mouth again, with her hands now coming up to hold Tissaia’s head in place. As if she could move or even want to move. All too soon, Yennefer pulls away, and Tissaia is left to look at her, breathless. It’s only when she tries to step closer to a retreating Yennefer that Tissaia realizes she can’t. There’s a vine around her midsection, one that, in her distraction, she hadn’t noticed. She looks up at Yennefer questioningly.

“I’m sorry, Tissaia.” She looks guilty. “The vine will disappear once Triss wakes up. It was the only way I could stop you from following me.”

Tissaia is beyond confused, and _now_ she’s scared. “What—I don’t understand.” But Yennefer smiles at her—a sad smile that Tissaia hates on sight. “I’m sorry,” her lover repeats. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, one day.”

Powerless and incredulous, Tissaia is left to watch as Yennefer’s outstretched hand opens a portal and, after one last glance back at her, the woman disappears through it, leaving nothing but her broken promise behind her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer to write, mostly because I've been a) procrastinating and b) writing a crackfic with thinkbucket (which y'all should read, go go go).
> 
> But here we are, final chapter, over 5,8k which officially makes it the longest chapter ever written in a multichapter story of mine.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, thank you for having made it this far, and thank you for all the rave reviews, SO GRATEFUL!!

The news reaches Aretuza the next morning while Tissaia and most of the people within the school walls are in the dining hall having breakfast. She’s nibbling on fresh bread covered in strawberry jam when the doors to the room open to reveal a slightly overweight man waving a scroll while trying to catch his breath. He catches her eyes and she motions for him to come closer, under Stregobor’s watchful gaze. The man is quick to hand her the scroll and bow out, no doubt eager to leave the place and find the nearest tavern for a drink. Tissaia doesn’t even acknowledge him. She is too impatient to see what the news is. Receiving a message that early in the morning is never a good thing. The room has fallen silent, even the students, as if they’ve felt the shift in the atmosphere as Tissaia’s eyes go rapidly from left to right, reading the few lines written hastily by an emissary. Shakily, she stands, hands the scroll to Stregobor sitting next to her and clears her throat, hoping her voice will not falter.

This news is going to cause change and unrest in the continent, and Tissaia feels the weight of it on her shoulders. She knows who is responsible and she knows the part she’s played in this, albeit unwittingly. The students and mages alike have their eyes on her, waiting for whatever announcement the Rectoress is about to make. Tissaia takes one, two deep breaths before she speaks:

“Emperor Emhyr var Emreis of Nilfgaard is dead.”

__

The door to Tissaia’s chambers slams so hard that it echoes down the hall for long seconds. She is furious. She remembers yesterday and how utterly powerless she’d felt, waiting for the vines to let her go, for Triss to wake up. Close to an hour it had been, and by the time she’d been free to move again, the traces of Yennefer’s magic had been long gone and Tissaia had been unable to trace her. Triss had departed soon after her impromptu magical nap with a few compassionate words and empty reassurances that Yennefer probably needed some time away from everyone to _process_. Tissaia had almost laughed in her face. Clearly Triss did not know Yennefer of Vengerberg, aside from the tales she’d heard.

She’d known as soon as Yennefer had betrayed her promise to her. She’d known where the reckless, foolish woman was headed. The words written on the scroll did not say how Emhyr was killed but there’s already talk of magic being involved and Tissaia is fuming. Not only is Yennefer putting herself in danger, she’s inviting the common folks to distrust mages even more after what happened at Sodden Hill. Part of her understands the need for revenge, of course. She’s felt it herself, countless times, and only rarely ever indulged in it. Still, Yennefer should have known better. Emhyr was not hers to kill. Now, Nilfgaard will want answers and someone’s head on a pike. If it were to come out that Yennefer had done this…

She’s got no proof, of course, but Tissaia is no fool. Unable to rein in her anger, she sends a fireball into the hearth on the other side of the room and watches as the flames lick at the neat logs in there. After all the deaths Yennefer had on her conscience, she’d still seen it fit to add to her body count. Tissaia could strangle her. Wherever she is now, Yennefer’s mental shield is up because Tissaia cannot reach her. She sighs, sits on her bed, and puts her face in her hands. What now?

__

In all of her years on the Continent, Yennefer’s never really taken the time to truly appreciate a sunrise. The thought occurs to her as she sits on the stone outside the door of a small cottage hidden in the mountains. The weather is cold but the sky is clear and it offer an unobstructed view of the mountains at the horizon, and behind them, the sun, reddish in its morning glory. She exhales slowly, deeply, then takes in the fresh air. Something she’d been scared she’d never be able to do again, not after going on a suicide mission. But, she supposes, Emhyr’s guard had always heavily relied on her by his side. Guards were no use against magic and with Yennefer gone, he’d become a vulnerable target to magic users. Going in and out of the castle had been no trouble at all. A laughable task, really. It had made her revenge that much more satisfying. The fear in his eyes as he’d understood why his mage had suddenly teleported right into his chambers after having been missing for so long.

Yennefer could have demanded answers, she knows that. Could have asked him why, could have made him do whatever she wanted. But after all those decades Yennefer had no wants of her own, no idea what she truly desired. The only drive that she’d had in that moment was revenge and she’d satisfied that urge in such a way that she knew the chambermaid that would find him would certainly be scarred for life.

She looks down at her hands when the sun begins to be too blinding for her to keep staring at it. Even in the soft morning glow, the light is harsh and burns her eyes, making her tear up until she finally looks away. Word must have travelled by now. Perhaps it has even reached Aretuza already. _The emperor of Nilfgaard is dead!_ She imagines the messengers hurrying all over the continent to deliver word of his passing. She wonders if Tissaia’s heard the news. Thinking of her is painful. The wild look in blue eyes as she’d caught on to what Yennefer was planning on doing right before she’d disappeared through the portal will certainly haunt her future nights.

Would Tissaia forgive her with time? She’s not so foolish as to think her actions won’t have consequences, rippling through the entire Continent. Killing a ruler happens—rarely but it does. There are always consequences. She sighs. Hot-headedness had always been a weakness of hers. Apparently some things don’t change, even after being possessed by dark magic for decades, and then rid of it. She has no doubt that the conclusion will be that a magic user assassinated the emperor. What it means for mages? She shudders.

Maybe it was a mistake, to seek revenge, but still, Yennefer cannot find it in herself to feel remorse or guilt. He had it coming.

__

It’s about five months later when Tissaia hears about Yennefer of Vengerberg again. The mage has resurfaced in the North, gallivanting with a witcher by the name of Geralt. They’re working together to rid the Continent of demons, or so the rumors say. Tissaia isn’t sure how to feel about that information. Witchers are not her preferred company and Yennefer has questionable judgement and morals. Still, it’s good to know she’s alive and doing relatively well.

The political mess caused by Emhyr’s assassination has finally cleared, after long weeks of heated debate and threats of wars and invasions from every kingdom north of Nilfgaard. Tissaia is exhausted. Even after all the meetings, all the letters, she’s still unsure that everyone will abide by the rules of peace they all agreed upon. The distrust of magic is strong, especially in Nilfgaard, and there are whispers about their emperor’s slayer. Names thrown around. Yennefer’s of course, but also Philippa’s or Vilgefortz’s. Nevermind that he hasn’t been seen or heard of since Sodden Hill. Tissaia wonders how long it will be before her own name spills from the lips of peasants and conspiracy theorists. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because as loath as they are to admit it, the common folks need magic users to fend off beasts and creatures of nightmares. That’s why tales of this Geralt have reached Aretuza, and that’s how she’s learned of his affiliation with Yennefer.

Every cell in her body yearns for the other woman but Tissaia is as stubborn as she is prideful, and she’ll be damned if she ever—

There’s a loud crack that makes her bolt upright in bed and wave her hand so the candles light up at once. She’s been trying to fall asleep for close to an hour unsuccessfully and now, from the look of it, she’s not going to find any sleep at all.

In the middle of her room, on very unsteady legs stands Yennefer of Vengerberg.

__

It’s twenty long seconds before Tissaia moves to stand up from her bed and in front of her unexpected visitor. At first glance, Yennefer looks perfectly composed and pretty much like Tissaia remembers her. Taller, if possible, but that is perhaps due to the fact that Tissaia is in slippers.

“Hi,” Yennefer breathes, staying still. It’s easy to miss, the light sway of her upper body, the slightly dazed look in her eyes, but Tissaia catches it all promptly. Yennefer is drunk, or at least she’s been drinking. Which explains the visit, to an extent. After all, Yennefer hasn’t bothered to find her sooner, to even explain herself. Tissaia hadn’t asked, of course, unsure if she even had the right after… everything that had happened down in that cell. The memories still won’t let her in peace.

“Good evening,” she replies in the end, curiosity winning over bitterness. “What are you doing here?” Yennefer looks surprised, eyes darting around as if only now realizing she’s the one who came to Tissaia, not the other way around. Tissaia resists the urge to peek into the woman’s mind. “I was…”

“Drinking?” Tissaia interrupts.

“Thinking about you,” Yennefer continues, reproach in her eyes at having been interrupted. “But also drinking,” she concedes with a dismissive wave. Then her expression grows serious and she tries to come closer but Tissaia has spent months worrying and wondering about her, so much that she feels she’s aged a century in the span of weeks. If there’s resentment to be had, well, she’s certainly full of it.

“Tissaia, please,” Yennefer pleads when she sees the other woman step back. She hadn’t exactly meant to come here but the ale had been stronger than expected and her conscious mind had given way to her unconscious desires. Apparently those involve Tissaia. She’s missed her more than she’s willing to admit and having her standing right there, in a nightgown and her hair loose, knowing that she cannot approach is the greatest punishment she could get. “I’m sorry,” she tries in a desperate whisper, but Tissaia remains impassible, the only indication that the words have touched her in the slight clenching of her jaw. “I wanted to come sooner, but…” Words fail Yennefer. But what? She has no excuse. She chose revenge over her promise to Tissaia and while she knows the woman could understand, there is certainly no explanation as to why she didn’t reach out sooner.

“You’re lucky the Continent has decided to let you be,” Tissaia finally speaks, her tone icy and keeping Yennefer at arms’ length. “Your actions as Emhyr’s mage put you high up on the wanted list. I fought a great deal to rehabilitate your name. But you’re not welcome in Aretuza. Ever. And you’re certainly not welcome in any of the kingdoms you helped annihilate.”

Yennefer’s head bows slightly, an admission of the weight she’s been carrying on her shoulders ever since the cure cleared her veins of poisonous black magic. Yes, she remembers all too well the screams and the metallic scent of blood, and how she’d been able to taste it on her tongue as she’d walked through devastated cities and countless mutilated, lifeless bodies. She wouldn’t dream of ever showing her face in the South again. Tissaia must sense her discomfort because her tone is noticeably softer when she speaks again. “Perhaps you’ve found a way to absolve yourself of the atrocities committed in Emhyr’s name with this Geralt.”

The younger mage scoffs and makes her way to the bed, plops herself down on it and buries her face in her hands, all under Tissaia’s neutral gaze that follows her every move from where she stands. “I’m done with Geralt,” Yennefer mumbles from between her hands. Tissaia frowns and ignores the beat that her heart skips. “And why is that,” she asks in a carefully-controlled tone. Yennefer turns to the side to look at her and she shrugs. “He betrayed my trust, or whatever.”

Tissaia pursues her lips, frustrated that Yennefer will not elaborate on that but she refrains from pushing. “Is that why you drank half a tavern tonight?” Yennefer grins, gets up on legs that seem steadier now and makes her way towards Tissaia who doesn’t move back this time.

“I shouldn’t have come tonight,” she admits. She doesn’t even remember opening up a portal; something she’d done without thinking after one too many pints of ale. Tissaia stares at her, and Yennefer wishes she’d stop being so guarded and unreadable, believes they’re way past that now. “But I don’t regret it. I needed to see you. I didn’t thank you, the last time. For what you did.” Tissaia puts up a hand to stop her and she shakes her head slightly. “What I took from you…” Yennefer rolls her eyes and immediately regrets it when Tissaia clams up, hand dropping back at her side. “No, listen, Tissaia… You didn’t take anything from me that I wouldn’t have given anyway. I—You didn’t force me to do anything I wasn’t dying to do.” She steps closer, so close that she can finally breathe in the other woman’s scent and Yennefer sees all the control it takes for Tissaia not to shrink back into herself. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. About you,” she continues, unable to hold back, not when Tissaia is right here, looking divine, and Yennefer realizes just how much she’s missed her. “I know I may never be allowed in Aretuza again, and I know you may never allow me to touch you again but—”

Her voice breaks and she swallows thickly. Inside of her, something compels her to try anyway, to reach out for Tissaia and let her hands grasp at her nightgown and Yennefer, with her poor impulse control that doesn’t seem to ever get better, yields. She grabs Tissaia by the waist and is met with no resistance—too surprised to react, probably—and then her lips are on Tissaia’s and she kisses with everything that she’s got. Tissaia tries to resist, hands on Yennefer’s biceps, fingers tightening around them, and then all resistance is gone from her and she abandons herself to Yennefer’s passion, even lets out a trembling moan when Yennefer takes her bottom lip between her teeth and tugs on it lightly, drawing Tissaia closer. All too soon, she snaps out of her trance and pushes Yennefer back more forcefully than intended, making the woman stumble a couple of steps back before she steadies herself. Breathing hard, Tissaia stares at her, her body tense. “You should leave,” she whispers.

Yennefer searches her eyes, desperately trying to find something—anything—that would tell her Tissaia doesn’t mean those words, but her shoulders slump and she nods, defeated. “If you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for being a foolish, impulsive idiot… I’ll be in Rinde, for a while. You’ll know where to find me.”

And while there are no vine around her waist this time, Tissaia feels it all the same as she watches, once again, Yennefer disappear through a portal.

__

Tissaia lasts all of two weeks before she drops the pretense and lets the council know she’ll be away on business for two days. She has no idea what awaits her in Rinde but now she is ready to talk to Yennefer, to truly talk things out. She silences the voice in the back of her mind that tells her she’s hoping for more than explanations and absolutions. She doesn’t want to linger on the possibility of more. There’s so much baggage between them; it wouldn’t be right to let herself want more.

__

The sun is at its highest point in the sky when she sets foot in Rinde; the portal closing right behind her. She squints in the harsh light and turns her head to the right where, in the horizon, dark and angry clouds seem to be making rapid progress towards the city. There’s a storm coming, and she can feel the atmosphere crackling with electricity already, and with something else. Magic, she deduces.

The streets are bristling with people hurrying to their destination, and Tissaia congratulates her wise decision to teleport right outside the city gates so as to not attract too much attention to herself. She knows she looks out of place here, too regal among the common folks. No need to reveal herself as the all-powerful Rectoress of Aretuza. Her feet guide her straight to the mayor’s mansion, a feeling of déjà-vu settling in her chest. She remembers all too well what had happened there, the last time she’d shown up. Steeling herself, Tissaia marches forward and pushes open the unguarded door of the house.

__

Yennefer feels her as soon as she sets foot in the city. The burst in magic, the familiar tingling that she gets when Tissaia is nearby. Her body thrums with excitement and she has to school her features into a neutral expression. She’s reading a book on herbs that’s only mildly interesting but she keeps her eyes on the page, trying to feign disinterest, willing her heartbeat to slow down. She’s been waiting for this for a fortnight, hoping against all odds that Tissaia would give in and seek her out. Yennefer thanks her lucky star. She lowers the shield surrounding the mansion just long enough to let Tissaia in when she feels her presence downstairs, and then she wets her fingertip and flips a page just as Tissaia knocks on the door and slips into the room. She stands in the doorway, hands clasped in front of her, and stares at Yennefer lounging on the bed.

“Is that how you greet your guests,” Tissaia’s voice breaks the silence. Yennefer looks up and there’s a shiver creeping up her spine when she drops her book next to her on the bed, uncrosses her legs to fling them over to the side and stands up. Tissaia swallows thickly and waits for Yennefer to approach.

“Tissaia. I can’t say I was expecting you. How are you,” Yennefer asks her, already standing too close for her liking. “I’m doing just fine,” she replies evenly. “I thought I could… spare some time, for us to talk.” Yennefer can’t help the roll of her eyes, disappointed. “To talk, again. To rehash old conversations, again.” She turns away, heads for the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room. She pours herself a glass of red liquor, and then pours another that she brings wordlessly to Tissaia who has yet to step further into the room. Their fingers brush and Tissaia is certain Yennefer did that on purpose to mess with her. She hates that her mind focuses on that small, insignificant act. Yennefer doesn’t linger, she retreats to the bed and sits on the edge of it, fingers wrapped tightly around her glass.

“Well, I’m listening.” Tissaia takes a careful step forward and clears her throat. She pretends to examine the room to buy herself some time but knows that, eventually, she’ll have to talk or Yennefer will grow impatient and they’ll fight for all the wrong reasons. “I’ve told the Chapter about what happened to you. They will be keeping a close eye on Nilfgaard. Still, even they agree that it’s best for you to make yourself as small and invisible as possible. Your name strikes fear in the people of the Continent, you see.” A pause. Tissaia drinks from her glass, savors the burn of the liquor down her throat. She feels Yennefer’s eyes on her, making her feel like there’s not enough space between them even though they could hardly be further apart.

“I understand,” Yennefer says, her tone clipped. She already knows all of that, already knew before she took action against Emhyr that she’d make things worse for herself. People must wonder which side she’s truly on, as if Yennefer cares for political games at all. She only wants to be left in peace. She only wants Tissaia. Those wishes are so simple, yet they seem to be the most unattainable goals she could have set for herself. Tissaia is tiptoeing around what she really came here to discuss; Yennefer reads her body language with ease. A spine more rigid than usual, a jaw that locks around words she holds back. Yennefer sips at her drink, waiting for the moment Tissaia will find her backbone and address the elephant in the room. It comes sooner than expected, and Yennefer chokes back a bark of surprised laughter when Tissaia finally asks her question. “How do you feel about me?”

She rises to her feet, glass in hand, and closes the distance that separates her from Tissaia. “You know how I feel about you,” she states confidently, but Tissaia shakes her head. “Lust is not what I mean, Yennefer, and you know it. I am well aware of how much you desire me.” The words spoken with such casualness sound so foreign in Tissaia’s mouth. Yennefer empties her glass, purple eyes never leaving blue ones, and she wipes her lips with the back of a hand, crassly. Tissaia remains impassible, waiting for her answer, and Yennefer caves in just as she knew she would. “I feel things for you that I wish I did not,” she sighs. “It’s more than I’ve ever thought myself capable of feeling. It scares me,” she finishes, words reluctantly coming out of her mouth in no more than a murmur. Tissaia had probably convinced herself that Yennefer was a beast, incapable of feelings, because there’s a look of shock on her face that she struggles to mask. Yennefer wants to laugh, bitterly, sadly. Nothing is ever simple for her.

“Even after I kept you in a cell for months,” Tissaia asks, dubious. Yennefer shrugs. “What of your feelings,” she retorts. “Are they not still present in your chest even though I tried to kill you several times?” With defiance, daring Tissaia to deny it and move back, Yennefer steps closer. Tissaia deflates, looks down at the floor, shakes her head imperceptibly. “How is this healthy,” she wonders out loud, “for either of us? We’re toxic for each other, Yennefer.” Is there a point in trying to argue the truth? Yennefer isn’t sure but she’s used, by now, to fight battles that seem hopeless. “I wasn’t myself. We couldn’t have a fair chance at—at whatever this is, whatever it could become. We do now!” She does not intend for the despair she feels to shine through but it does, and somehow it makes Tissaia raise her chin and meet her eyes again.

Yennefer watches as the gloved hand not holding a glass rises slowly until it hovers over her cheek and then cups it softly. She fights to keep her eyes open, to not revel in a caress that feels heavy, carrying meaning Yennefer can’t guess. Will Tissaia meet her halfway or decide she’s not worth taking a chance on? Then blue eyes drop to her lips and Yennefer lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding and she surges forward, pressing her mouth to Tissaia’s. She’s seen her coming, Yennefer thinks, because Tissaia is ready for her, arm wrapping around her neck to bring her closer. They don’t move against each other, the fusion of their mouths enough to send a message: we feel the same, we’re together. Yennefer could cry.

When Tissaia pulls back a little, Yennefer takes the glass still in her hand and sets it on top of the chest of drawers on her left. Tissaia is about to speak again but Yennefer doesn’t want to risk her saying this was a mistake so she brings her index finger to thin lips and Tissaia stills. “You want to know how I feel about you,” Yennefer says, “and I’m willing to tell you, if you’ll listen.” Tissaia nods, wide-eyed. If it’s reassurance she needs, Yennefer can do that. She traces the contour of Tissaia’s mouth with her index, watches in awe as the woman’s eyes flutter shut.

“Right after I killed Emhyr, I thought about you and prayed you wouldn’t hate me.” The finger moves to Tissaia’s chin, then jaw, going all the way up to her ear. “My heart felt so heavy in my chest after I left you in the dungeons. I thought I’d never be able to breathe normally again.” She huddles closer, brings the tip of her nose to the bridge of Tissaia’s, caresses it slowly. “Ever since I left that cell I’ve been hoping you’d come and find me. Maybe you’d yell at me but it didn’t even matter, I just wanted to see you.” She kisses Tissaia’s cheek, reverently, slowly. “You’re on my mind, all the time.” A kiss to the other cheek. “I’d do anything for you, Tissaia. Anything. I’m sorry, about the dimeritium. About all the times I hurt you.” Yennefer’s hands are on each side of Tissaia’s neck, stroking softly at the skin there. “Give us a chance,” she pleads.

For a moment, she thinks all is lost, because Tissaia doesn’t react. The hands around her neck still for a few seconds, and then retreat, only to be chased by Tissaia’s who finally opens her eyes and stares straight into Yennefer’s. Gloved fingers wrap around her wrists and tug her closer until Tissaia has to look up at her. “How does that work, Yennefer? Me at Aretuza, a place you’ve been forbidden to ever enter again, and you, going on adventures to find a sense of purpose that’s always escaped you. How do you see this working out?”

“Logistics,” Yennefer says dismissively. “We’re made of magic, Tissaia. You could portal out of Aretuza any time you want.” It’s not ideal, she knows that, and the prospect of having to sneak around is certainly not appealing to Tissaia, but Yennefer meant what she said, she’d do anything for her. She sees the hesitation written all over Tissaia’s face, accepts that the other woman might still refuse to let herself be happy, but doesn’t give up. “Kiss me,” Yennefer whispers. The command surprises Tissaia, but resistance gave way to resignation some time ago and she obeys. The kiss, first light as a feather, deepens when Yennefer pulls Tissaia into her, forbids her to escape her embrace.

All semblance of conflict soon abandons Tissaia. The last shreds of doubt dissipate when Yennefer whimpers at the feel of Tissaia’s tongue against her lips, demanding entrance. Blindly, she takes off her gloves and discards them to the side, uncaring of where they land. Her hands, feverish, tangle in Yennefer’s dark mane and when they grab a fistful of hair and pull, Yennefer groans, and Tissaia is lost in her. How weak Yennefer makes her! And yet, in her arms, she’s never felt so powerful. “I’ll do anything,” Yennefer repeats like a mantra, peppering kisses on her cheeks, jaw, nose, lips. “Anything.” Desperation shines through and is contagious: Tissaia feels it in every fiber of her being and she clings to Yennefer just as her lover clings to her.

Anything, Tissaia thinks. Anything, anything. The word echoes in her mind. Having that power over Yennefer is both terrifying and exhilarating. She breaks the kiss, leans back a little, observes the way Yennefer’s eyes remain focused on her swollen lips, wanting. She remembers the defiance in her gaze, that first time in the cell. The fire of hatred mixed with lust that she sees no trace of, now, only hunger for her, for more. “Take off your clothes,” she orders because she can. Because Yennefer will obey, will listen and comply, and it thrills Tissaia.

Yennefer searches her face for any trace of hesitation but Tissaia is tired of depriving herself of what she wants and what she needs, and she’s not running away from this any longer. So Yennefer sheds her clothes, slowly, maintaining eye contact. Tissaia waits until she’s completely naked—something that would make most people feel vulnerable, but not Yennefer. Yennefer stands proudly, beauty itself, and Tissaia stares and stares. “I expect loyalty,” she says, “and honesty. If you cannot do this, you must tell me know.” Yennefer remains silent. Tissaia reaches for her and Yennefer lets herself be touched, allows Tissaia’s hands to roam and do whatever they please. “No other lover between your sheets, no more secrets or lies.” Pink lips hover over the junction between her throat and collarbone, and Yennefer sucks in a breath, sharply. _Yes_ , she wants to say, _of course_. Tissaia’s neatly filed nails rake across the length of her back and Yennefer is reminded of their first time, in the cell, and how in control Tissaia had been. She’s not against repeating the experience. “If I am to be yours,” Tissaia explains, “I expect you to be mine, and mine alone.” Yennefer nods at this, because she understands, and she wants the talking about terms and conditions to be over already. She’s dying to feel Tissaia’s skin beneath her fingertips. “Very well,” Tissaia finally says. “You may undress me now.”

Yennefer does as told, and despite the urgency she feels, her movements are moderate, careful. Tissaia lets her do the work, observes her quietly as she moves around. If Yennefer is bothered by it, she doesn’t show it. This is new, she thinks. They’ve never done this without Yennefer’s very essence being altered, and the quietness of it is unsettling. When Yennefer slips behind her to help her out of the long dress she’s wearing, Tissaia closes her eyes to center herself, and she keeps them closed until Yennefer wraps her arms around her midsection loosely and presses her breasts to Tissaia’s back. The intimacy of it overwhelms Tissaia. Yennefer is nuzzling her ear and she holds onto her arms and accepts the light touch, revels in the easiness of it all. When Yennefer’s hands start stroking her skin and venture higher to cup her breasts, Tissaia hums and her head lolls backward, against Yennefer’s shoulder. “I’ve missed this so much,” Yennefer whispers hotly against her ear. Tissaia has to hold back a whimper. She breaks free, turns to face Yennefer, appraises her figure briefly before walking over to the bed and settling on it languidly. Yennefer watches her like a wild animal watches its prey, ready to pounce.

“I’m not going to keep ordering you around, Yennefer,” Tissaia mocks lightly. Yennefer grins. “Does that mean I get to do anything I want to you?” There’s a pregnant pause, and the lighthearted atmosphere dissipates along with Tissaia’s smile. The words are loaded, despite Yennefer’s initial playful intention, and it is not lost on either of them. Closing the space between them, Yennefer crouches in front of Tissaia, hands on her knees to steady herself. “Tissaia,” she says, her tone solemn, “I don’t want us to put unnecessary barriers between us. Clearly whatever we’re both feeling is too strong to resist and any attempt at avoiding this will only lead to unhappiness. I want you. And not simply in the physical sense, it’s… so much more.” Her gaze is earnest, Tissaia knows. And yet…

“Why can’t you bring yourself to say the words,” she asks. Because she’s not sure Yennefer even knows what she’s feeling. Tissaia figured it out a long time ago now, but Yennefer still refers to it as “whatever” she’s feeling and that will simply not do anymore. There’s a vulnerability that appears on her beautiful face, and Tissaia cups her chin, caresses her bottom lip with her thumb. “I love you, Yennefer. I’m not afraid to say it, and neither should you.” Yennefer’s grip on her knees tightens noticeably and she presses a kiss to each one, then spreads them to lodge herself between them and to be able to kiss Tissaia’s lips ferociously. It’s her way of saying it back, Tissaia understands, and she’s not about to push the other woman to utter words she’s not ready to—

“I love you too,” Yennefer gasps when they break apart, her forehead resting against Tissaia’s. “I love you,” she repeats, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. The slickness between Tissaia’s thighs makes contact with Yennefer’s soft skin and she bites hard on her lip to keep from making a sound. Yennefer isn’t done professing her love, marking every inch of Tissaia’s body with her mouth, and tongue, and Tissaia feels herself burning up, can barely keep up with what is happening to her. “Yennefer,” she calls, redirecting the woman’s attention to her face. “Please,” she whispers, and Yennefer knows what she wants, what she needs, and suddenly she’s lying flat on her back and Yennefer is on top of her and Tissaia falls and falls deeper in love.

__

“Why dimeritium,” Tissaia wonders out loud in the semi-darkness of the room. Her head rests on Yennefer’s shoulder and her companion is playing with a lock of brown hair, twirling it around her fingers. “You could have stabbed me with the dagger in your boot, but you chose dimeritium.” She’s pondered on it before, trying to assign motive to Yennefer’s choice of weapon against her. She’s curious to know. Yennefer’s hand stills, and Tissaia looks up at her. “I’m not trying to dredge up the past,” she explains, “but I’ve been wondering about that.” The playing with her hair resumes, and Yennefer hums, thinking. “I suppose I figured it was the most personal attack for a sorceress. Blades, they’re a soldier’s weapons. I didn’t want to draw your blood. I wanted you… to suffer.”

Yennefer’s anger for all that she’s done under Emhyr’s thumb comes back full force and she must tense up because Tissaia runs a soothing hand over her toned stomach and presses a kiss on the underside of her jaw. “It’s all forgiven, Yennefer. Let us not speak of it again.” She nods, unsure of whether she deserves forgiveness for any of it, but Tissaia is sliding on top of her again and, looking into her eyes, Yennefer can let herself believe everything is all right.

She wants to say the words again, for they are all she can think of when it’s just the two of them, so close, united, intimate. She settles for capturing soft lips with hers, hopes her body can convey the depth of her feelings in the way words can’t. Tissaia smiles and it says _I love you_ and _I’m happy_ and Yennefer knows she would endure endless trials and pain if it meant having that smile directed at her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I legit had a moment where I thought about making it a bittersweet ending with them parting ways, but... *sigh* I'm soft.


End file.
